Hold You In My Arms
by CardioQueen
Summary: Sequel for To Love Somebody. You can't possibly grasp what's going on in this story without reading this one first.
1. Chapter 1

_When you came to me with your bad dreams and your fears, it was easy to see you'd been crying. Seems like everywhere you turn, catastrophe reigns. Who really profits from the dying?_

For countless days, he had watched her just lay around. She'd lie in bed until he forced her out of it, and then she'd just lie on the couch. Her eyes never seemed to focus on one thing, didn't have the sparkle to them that they once had. She merely existed, just barely there.

Cristina was dead, just like Owen.

The only difference was that she was still breathing.

Burke had tried in earnest to do anything to bring her out of it. He'd tried making her angry, tried talking about him, tried talking about the past. None of it really resulted in a desirable response- the most he ever got was her rolling onto her side, turning her back to him.

He'd taken to sleeping on her couch, wanting to keep a close eye on her. Time and time again, she'd told him to go away, but he remembered the first day he'd checked on her at Meredith's urging. He remembered her saying that it was his turn to see it.

He wasn't walking away now, no matter how many times he'd considered it.

Now being one of those times.

Burke tore through the apartment, walking from room to room and calling her name. She hadn't gotten out of bed for days and on the day that she finally decides to do it, she waited until he was sleeping. He'd called the hospital, called Meredith, anybody who might know where she'd be and all of them were clueless with the exception of Meredith who was caught in a surgery.

Her idea was one that made his stomach churn, one that he didn't want to address- but he knew that he didn't have a choice in the matter.

The drive to the cemetery was a surprisingly short one and he could understand why her car was still parked in front of the house. A person would have to be crazy to walk in this kind of weather, but Cristina wasn't exactly in a good place.

Overcast skies and lightning provided an eerie backdrop to an already ominous setting as he examined his surroundings, driving slowly down the narrow blacktop road. He wasn't sure where she was, where Owen was buried, the best he could do was look.

He finally spotted her beneath a tree next to a mound of eroding mud.

Burke parked his car, got out of it and slowly trekked up the hill with an umbrella to shield from the bitterly cold rain. His eyes remained focused on her as she sat there, her knees drawn against her chest.

Black hair hung in saturated clumps around her face, down her back and shoulders, water dripping from them and onto the ground. Her clothes were soaked and her skin even more pale than normal. Cristina's breath misted from her lips as she sat there, staring at the mound, but she did not shiver.

She didn't even feel the cold.

"Cristina," Burke breathed softly, but stopped there. What could he say to her? He couldn't just drag her away, telling her that she shouldn't be here.

It was the first time that she'd even been at his gravesite.

Her eyes focused on the dying flowers atop the mound and she let out a shaky breath. "It should have been like this. For his funeral. I would have come. I could have come. But it was sunny and it was warm and it was those days that he _lived_ for. He _lived_ for those days. I…I just couldn't. I couldn't accept that he was dead on the kind of day that he lived for."

Burke stood over her, holding the umbrella over her head as if it would do any good. "Nobody holds it against you, Cristina."

Nobody had to hold it against her.

Cristina held it against herself.

"It doesn't feel real. It's this nightmare and I keep thinking that I'm going to wake up." Her voice broke then and she stopped to take another deep breath. She couldn't break again. "I keep wondering when I'm going to wake up. Then I think that if I sleep enough, that if I just lay there and wait, the nightmare will be over and you will be gone and he'll be here. Things will be the way that they're supposed to be."

He knew that her words weren't meant to hurt him, but they tore at him just slightly, nicking at his being. He was sure that there'd be more of it as she found her way back from whatever place she was in. "It doesn't work that way," He uttered softly. "I wish it could."

She looked up at him then, her eyes fierce with a maelstrom of emotion, "Do you? You're here. You're in my apartment. You're following me around. You're here and he's not. It's what you wanted, isn't it? You've got me now. You win. You won."

"Cristina, I wasn't competing." Burke's voice remained low and even. She was hurting. He just had to remind himself that she was hurting. It was his turn to see her pain.

"Whatever." She muttered. She knew differently. If he weren't competing, he wouldn't have been there. Burke knew what he was doing, what he did. Her fingers curled into tight fists and she shivered then, just a little bit, acutely aware for the first time of the temperature.

It did not go unnoticed by Burke. He shrugged his coat off and put it around her shoulders, trying carefully to hold the umbrella in place at the same time so she wouldn't get anymore wet. Silently, he stood over her. It was cold out and he knew that they would get sick but this was her funeral. This was her day to say goodbye to him.

He would not interrupt that.

Cristina wanted to push his coat off out of spite, but the warmth was too welcome against her icy skin. She pulled it more tightly around her, her eyes focused once more on the mound next to her. A particular bouquet of flowers caught her eye, a small pin on one of the ribbons holding the decaying gestures together. She reached out, took them in her hand and freed the pin from the ribbon with a slight tug.

She recognized it, but could not recall the name of it- a combat pin or something. He'd worn it on his fatigues the first time she'd seen him, pinned it to his dress uniform, still hanging in the back of their closet. Her fingers turned the ribbon in her hands, looked for a card to see who had sent it, but there was no name.

Her hand curled around the small piece of metal and she held to it before laying her head against her knees.

Cristina wanted it to feel real. She wanted to quit feeling like she was, wanted to quit lying in bed. At the same time she knew that letting go of that feeling meant letting go of him and she wasn't ready to do that. She didn't want to let go of him.

She didn't want to forget him.

They'd had so many years together. She'd put so much of herself into their relationship, fallen so hard for him that she didn't know how she'd ever find herself. There was a very large piece of her that was lying beneath the ground with him, a piece that she doubted that she'd ever find.

Tears formed in the corner of her eyes and she closed them. She imagined him saying her name, saying he loved her. When she felt arms encircle her, she tried to pretend it was his arms holding her. She heard him promise again that it would be okay, and she tried to turn his words into Owen's, tried to hear Owen making those promises.

Burke held her close in a combination of trying to comfort her and keep her warm. He had always known that Cristina had the capacity to love, that she was fiercely loyal- he had just never pictured her like this. She was truly a widow, a woman who'd lived a life dedicated to another person who lived no more. In a million years he would have never been able to imagine her in this position.

Ten years ago, he couldn't have been able to picture her like that.

His eyes rested upon the ground beside them and wondered what it was about him that made her love so fiercely. Maybe one day he'd find out from her.

If he were honest with himself, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to know.

Cristina finally pulled out of his arms and she straightened up a little bit. She hated herself for letting him console her. She shouldn't be anywhere near him, shouldn't even be talking to him. Her heart broke when she realized exactly how upset that Owen would be if he were there.

He was dead and she was sitting next to his grave with another man consoling her.

She stood abruptly, emotion threatening to overwhelm her once more. "I want to go home." She uttered before walking away from him and towards the car.

Burke sensed the urgent change in her demeanor and pondered for a moment what it might mean. He followed behind her, giving her the space that she so suddenly needed. In time, he was sure that he'd find out the swift change in her mood- if it could even be called that.

Whatever the future held for her, for him- he knew it would not be easy or pleasant. He would leave her, just as she asked on that first night as soon as he knew that she'd be okay. Whether it would be a few days or a few months, he would wait until he _knew_ she could make it on her own.


	2. Chapter 2

A deluge had settled over Seattle. The dark gray clouds mirrored her mood; the high winds blowing the tree branches against the roof mimicked the emotion inside her. The constant pouring of rain outside made it easier for her to pull herself out of bed, to move on.

The anger was helping her too.

Burke heard the bedroom door slam open as he started a cup of coffee and he closed his eyes letting out a heavy breath. She had been easier to deal with when she was still trying to wake up from her nightmare; she had been more easily consolable.

Now she was confrontational. She was hurt in the worst way that a person could be hurt, and she was looking for somebody to take it out on.

He found himself wondering why he had volunteered to do this, why he was sticking around for her. He knew the answers of course, knew the reasons. He knew the feelings that belied his heart. This wasn't about him, though.

It was about her.

Steeling himself against her newly rediscovered attitude, he pulled down two coffee mugs and set them on the counter. He wasn't sure what today would bring, but nothing could be as bad as yesterday was.

Cristina walked out into the living room, completely irritated the clanging of glass from the kitchen and the sounds of pans being pulled out. As she started towards the kitchen, she spotted three trauma annals spread on the corner of the coffee table, one of them flipped open to an article. She paused, leaning over to see it was an article on traumatic pericardial tamponade and she narrowed her eyes.

Maybe if he'd bother to read up on them prior to now, he would have been able to save Owen.

Gathering the journals into her arms, she walked into the kitchen, hugging them against her chest. "You don't live here."

"Good morning, Cristina." Burke answered evenly, filling up her coffee mug. "Are you feeling better this morning?"

It was always best to at least try civility before giving into her fits of anger. He understood what she was going through and he was doing his best to be patient with her. Mornings were always the easiest because they had at least 8 hours apart before she'd start in again.

"You're reading _his_ journals. They're _his. _Not yours. You don't even _like_ trauma surgery. You insulted it." She muttered, "Keep your hands off my stuff. And his. Even better, get the hell out."

"I'll leave when I know you're-" He started, extending a cup of coffee.

"Do I not look okay to you? I'm eating. I'm dressed. I'm out of bed. I'm fine. Now get the hell out." She pulled the cup out of his hand, causing it to splash back a little and burn his hand. Cristina didn't even flinch as it happened. He deserved it.

"Dammit, Cristina." He cursed, reaching for a towel. "You can yell. You can throw things. You can do what you want. It's your apartmen-"

"You're damn right it is." She interjected, sitting at the table. Pushing her coffee off to the side, she looked down at the article that Burke had been reading. She probably knew everything about it already, but it didn't keep her from reading it anyway. She felt pain spread through her chest as she read every word, the pathology of how it occurs.

What the human body does in response.

Owen was in pain. He would have died, writhing in pain. He felt every ounce of it. There was no such thing as dying quickly. Not with the injuries he had.

Cristina pushed the article aside when she was done with it and picked up one of the other journals to look up the other articles on his injuries. There were pictures under the diffuse axonal injury, brain matter in ear canals. She felt a wave of nausea strike and she tried to swallow it down, reading the words. Her fingers curled around the pages.

Burke noticed how still she was and moved very quietly just until he was behind her and could see what she was reading. Despite the fact that they were surgeons, he knew that the pictures were far too graphic for her.

Especially now.

Carefully, he reached over her shoulder and pulled the article out of her hands. He wasn't surprised at how easily they came out of her hands. "It wasn't that bad," He murmured softly. "It wasn't like that."

"Shut up." She answered, her eyes fixed on the table. "I'm a doctor. I know exactly what it was like. I'm not stupid."

He carried the journals back to the place he found them and laid them atop the pile. Turning back to look at her, he saw her wipe a tear from the corner of her eyes. Things were so much easier when she was calmed by hearing that everything would be okay.

Now it took getting yelled at to distract her from reality.

Casually, he walked over to a picture of the two of them hanging on the wall. It was still unnerving to him, the smile on her face. It daunted him, every night when he'd lay on the couch trying to fall asleep. It was just another sign that he couldn't have possibly made her as happy as Owen did.

"Where'd you take this?" He asked, forcing curiosity into his tone.

"What's it matter?" She asked, already annoyed. He'd found a fondness for playing twenty questions with her that made her want to chuck something heavy at his head.

"Because I'm curious. Is that Puget Sound?" Burke asked, his eyes focused on the smile. The sun was bright and _his_ arms were around her and she looked like she could burst into laughter at any moment.

"Does Puget Sound have a lighthouse?" Cristina snapped. "Just…quit asking me questions."

"It's just a _question_, Cristina. I'm not interrogating you. It's a nice picture." He paused for a second and he couldn't withhold a small smirk, "Who took it?"

In that moment, he couldn't help but feel that distracting her from everything that had happened wasn't at least a little amusing at times.

"Goddammit, Burke. Shut up." She reached for her coffee and brought it to her lips in an attempt to take a sip-

"Goddammit Burke? Is he a local photographer? I wonder if he's related." Burke mused out loud with a smug grin, turning to face her. "Maybe a cousin."

"I hate you."

"That's alright. I don't mind." He assured her, turning to look at the picture again. Owen was not the type of guy that he had ever imagined Cristina falling for. Blue eyes, red hair, fair skin. Maybe it was just because that Owen wasn't _him_. They were polar opposites.

For a fleeting moment he wondered if that's why she'd chosen him, because he was the exact opposite of everything that he'd been.

"Will you quit staring at the damn picture?" Cristina sighed, putting her coffee down. "Just stop. Stop looking at stuff. Stop touching stuff."

"And what do you want me to do Cristina? Walk around with blinders so that I can't see? Keep my hands tied behind my back?" He questioned.

"You could trying the getting the hell out." She repeated for what must have been at least the twentieth time in the past two days.

"I will, soon enough." Burke assured her, still staring at the picture. "Once you've gone back to work for a few days and gotten back into the routine of things. I'll leave."

"Shepherd made me take leave!" Cristina argued, standing abruptly from her chair. "I can't even go back until the first!"

Burke shrugged nonchalantly, keeping up with the smug demeanor. "It's eight days. I'm sure you can handle it. As long as I can find some blinders. You may have to tie my hands though."

"You'd like it." She spat, walking over to the wall with every intention of tearing the picture frame and it's contents off the wall.

Sensing her plan, Burke said the only thing that he knew for sure that would distract her. "On the contrary, I'd rather be the one doing the tying." He said in a low voice, his eyes settling on hers. Despite the fact that he hadn't really meant anything, he couldn't help but feel just a flicker of desire at the very vivid thought.

She belonged to somebody else. He wasn't supposed to think like that.

Seconds later, the thought dissipated and was replaced with a burning sensation in his cheek. He brought his hand up to his cheek, grimacing slightly. "What was that for?" He asked, pretending as if he hadn't just made sexual suggestions to a newly widowed woman.

Cristina stood before him, her eyes burning with hanger and body tensed. "Quit looking at my pictures. Quit touching his things. Quit speaking to me. Just quit. Nobody asked you to care. Nobody told you to come here and take care of me. I don't want you here."

"I don't want to be here." He countered, his words truthful.

"Then why the hell are you here?" She asked, frustration punctuating every word.

"Because _he_," Burke answered, pointing to the picture, "Wouldn't have wanted you to go through this alone and you've managed to alienate everybody else in your life!"

"I haven't alienated anybody." She answered in a quiet voice. "I haven't."

"Oh really?" He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where the hell is Grey? Why isn't she here doing this?"

Cristina's eyes bore through him, a million hateful words penetrating his being without her even saying a word. She turned away from him and walked back towards her bedroom.

"You know that I'm right." He called after her. "Karev offered to talk to you. Grey spent day and night here for several days trying to help you and you pushed her away. If it weren't for me, you'd be rotting away in that bed and nobody would even know."

She whirled around angrily, advancing at him with clenched fists. "If it weren't for you? If it weren't for _you?_ If it weren't for you, he wouldn't be rotting away in the ground! If it weren't for you, he wouldn't have been out that night. He would have been here with me, where he belonged. He would have been _here_. This is your fault."

Burke clenched his jaw, not saying a word. It was better to let her be angry at him rather than think about him being gone. It was better for her to be angry. Angry was better than laying in bed. Slapping him and throwing things around was better than wasting away.

"I'm right. You know that I'm right. You know this is your fault."

His eyes remained fixed with hers and he nodded slowly. "Yes."

Cristina felt a sudden rush of emotion and her eyes prickled with tears, the familiar tightness in her chest settled in once more, but she didn't tear her eyes from his. "I wish it had been you."

Her words killed him. He wished it had been him as well. At least she wouldn't be in this place that she was in. She would be that woman on the wall, about to burst into laughter as the wind tangled through her curls, the sun illuminating her eyes. She'd be wrapped up in his arms and he'd be looking at her like she was the single most important thing in the world.

She'd be happy.

"Well, it wasn't." He finally answered, only after he was sure that he'd mustered enough will to keep his voice cold and even.

"I hate you." She hissed at him before turning back towards the table to finish her coffee. Cristina desperately wanted to go back into her bedroom, but she was sure it was what he expected her to do- to play the part of the broken girl who the dead fiancée.

He was wrong.

She was going to sit right there in front of him all day long and make him hurt, she was going to cause him just as much pain as he'd caused her.

It was the least of what he really deserved.


	3. Chapter 3

She should have never given Burke her key.

If she were truthful with herself, she probably shouldn't have even called him. Meredith should have handled it herself. There would have been something she could have said, some way to fix it. At the same time, she just didn't want to see Cristina like that.

She couldn't.

Especially when Meredith had her own things going on right now that landed her on the exact opposite of the spectrum; things that she couldn't even begin to utter to Cristina.

Not right now.

Frustrated, she knocked on the door to Cristina's apartment again, this time raising her voice, "Dammit, Burke. Quit arguing with Cristina and just let me in."

Meredith listened as she heard Cristina snap at him again and she heard Burke's voice, more distinctly telling her to sit down and let him answer the door. She looked up at him with an angry glare, "What the hell are you doing? You're not supposed to be yelling at her."

"Me?" He scoffed, "You think I started this?"

The petite woman pushed her way past Burke and saw Cristina sitting on the end of the couch, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked thinner, pale, empty; she was just a shell. There was nothing to keep her going, to make her happy. Without a word, she sunk on the couch next to Cristina and laid her head against her shoulder.

Cristina's eyes remained focused on the wall in front of them, "You've been busy."

"Yeah."

"You gave him the key?" She asked, her voice low.

Meredith's eyes closed and she nodded. "Sorry."

Cristina didn't answer her, only look down at the ground. She was so frustrated with both of them. Meredith for abandoning her with him, Burke because he was pissing her off, because he wouldn't just let her do her own thing. She wanted them all to leave, but at the same time she didn't want to be alone.

Burke finally interrupted the two of them, now wearing a jacket with keys in hand. "I have to go to the grocery store. Will you just…keep her under control while I'm gone? Please?"

His choice of wording only angered Meredith and she looked up at him. "Just go."

Before turning to leave, he looked at Cristina and sighed softly. "Do you want me to get you anything at the grocery store? Anything at all?"

Cristina stood up and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The only thing she wanted for him was to get the hell out of her apartment and stay out. She wanted him to quit pretending like he even remotely gave a damn about what she wanted.

He never cared before.

With a heavy sigh, he looked at Meredith. "I'm doing what I can for her," He assured her in a low voice. "I'm doing everything that I can. She yells and she carries on and I do my best to keep her angry because I know it's better than her lying in bed. Now she's angry at him too. She wants to pull down the pictures, throw them away. She's already thrown all of his clothes into boxes. I'm not letting her- she'll regret it. It will make things worse."

Meredith listened to him speak, heard the genuine concern in his tone. "Go home for a while. Take the evening off. I can stay with her until you come back. You need a break and she does too."

"I don't need a break from anything." He spoke softly. He was supposed to see all of it. That was their deal.

"Just please. Take your time. Let me spend some time with her."

Burke conceded in silence, reaching into his pocket to make sure that the grocery list he had made was still there. Just as he pulled the door open, Meredith called to him softly and he turned to look at her with a cocked eyebrow.

"If you make her some paella, she may go a little easier on you. It used to be her favorite. Before. When you were around." Mer mumbled, "And that chocolate cheesecake stuff you made too."

He couldn't help but smile slightly. "I'll take that into consideration. Thank you."

Meredith gave him little acknowledgement and locked the door after he left. She went into their office in search of a box, pausing to look at some of the stuff in the closet. There was so much of him in their place.

With a large box in hand, she left the office, dropped the box onto a nearby chair and walked into Cristina's room. "Come on. We're cleaning this stuff up."

Cristina looked up at her from the corner of the bed, "What are you talking about?"

"The pictures. We'll take them down. I'll take his things to my house. When you want them back, I'll bring them back."

Meredith watched as Cristina's eyes watered a little, as she swallowed hard. She could see the hesitation, but at the same time she saw something else. Determination, yearning- she couldn't really place a word to the emotion stirring from within her person, but it was more than anger. It was more than the shell that she had been.

Together, they worked in silence, removing the last ten years of her life from the walls. Each picture, Meredith tucked carefully into the box, careful not to shatter her memories. The flag from his funeral lay securely on top and was quickly covered by the lid. Despite the fact that she knew she shouldn't, she lifted the box and carried it to the door.

Cristina's eyes scanned the emptied walls and she took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. She could breathe again. He wasn't everywhere, reminding her that he was gone. His smile wasn't taunting her, his eyes weren't staring her down at every move.

He couldn't see another man in his apartment.

Meredith watched as Cristina looked around her apartment and she could see that she almost looked lighter. There was still a great sadness about her, but something had changed. "What else can I do?"

Pushing some curls from her face, she looked over at Meredith. "Help me change the sheets on my bed? I think there's another set of sheets and blankets in the closet."

"Of course." Meredith answered, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt. She went to work at stripping the bed down to nothing as Cristina searched through the closets for the need bed linens.

As they made the bed together, Cristina's eyes were drawn to Meredith's abdomen from time to time and she wasn't an idiot. She could see the fullness there, the emergence of a new life that Meredith wasn't telling her about.

Cristina wasn't going to ask about it either.

It wasn't fair. She was supposed to have a future, she was supposed to have that burgeoning in her belly, supposed to argue with Owen over names.

Then he left her.

After everything was finished, Cristina laid down on the bed and close her eyes. "I'm tired."

Meredith watched her, took in her words and nodded. "I can let you rest. We've done a lot. Whenever Burke gets back he can help me get the boxes into my car."

"Okay," Cristina mumbled, rolling onto her side and pulling a pillow into her arms. She heard footsteps moving to the door and she called out softly, "Mer?"

"Yeah Cristina?" She asked, spinning to look at her.

"Thank you. For sending him."

A wry grin spread across Meredith's lips and she nodded slightly, "Yeah. Well….if he gets out of line, call me. I'll straighten him out."

"I can handle him. I've done it before." Cristina mumbled, looking at her.

"I don't doubt that you can." Meredith mumbled, her hand resting on the door.

Cristina's eyes dropped to Meredith's stomach and then closed, the image of her stomach burned into her mind. She hoped momentarily that she'd be pregnant, tried to imagine the gamut of emotions that would hit her if she were.

Within a few seconds, she decided that she wouldn't want that. She couldn't raise their child.

Not on their own.

Meredith pulled the door closed and walked around the empty apartment for a few moments before she turned to the sound of the door unlocking.

Burke glanced around the emptied apartment and took note of the boxes by the door. He looked to Meredith in question, arms full of groceries. "She threatened you too?"

She shook her head, "I helped her. I offered." Her voice faded a little and she advanced forward to take a bag from him. "It killed her when you left. To be surrounded by your things. She needed to breathe. She needed her space. Just because she took them down doesn't mean she won't want them again."

He felt like an idiot for not realizing it himself. "I'll take them out to the car for you."

"Thank you. I shouldn't be lifting." She mumbled, looking down.

"Did Cristina notice? Did you tell her?" He asked, placing a gallon of milk into the refrigerator.

Meredith shook her head, "I couldn't. I couldn't tell her now. She can't tell and she doesn't know and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible. It isn't fair to her."

He nodded, understanding her sentiment. "I'm sure she'll appreciate that in the long run."

She didn't respond, only helped him put the groceries away in silence and then held the door as he carried multiple boxes out to her car. After the last box was loaded, she looked up at him and couldn't even muster a smile.

Meredith still held an unhealthy amount of contempt for what he'd done to her before, doing an unbelievable job of withholding it for Cristina's sake. "Try not to piss her off anymore. Cristina might not say what she's thinking, but she knows what she wants. Even if it's not stated clearly enough for you."

Burke easily understood the underlying meaning of her words. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You'd better." Meredith muttered before climbing into her car and pulling away without even glancing back at him.

He walked back into the apartment, closed the door and locked it. The day had been exhausting between arguing with Cristina and trying to figure out what the hell he was doing. There were feelings there for her that he could not deny, but he could not acknowledge them at the same time. Never had he hoped for someone to get over something so tragic in the entirety of his life.

Yet he knew the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave.

Glancing towards, Cristina's room, he noticed the lights out and he was thankful for the fact. He pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the edge of the couch before he walked into the bathroom with a hot shower on his mind.

Cristina turned to the intrusion, standing only in her underwear and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm in here!"

Burke stood, a little shell shocked for a minute before he turned his back. "I'm sorry. I…I didn't know that you were in here. I'm sorry."

She watched as he fumbled for the door handle, her eyes tracing the contour of his back, the smooth chocolate color of his skin and she bit her lip. She looked back up to his muscular arms, tried to imagine what it had felt like when he held her so many years ago. She couldn't remember him, what he felt like.

"Burke," She said softly, stepping forward. Her arms dropped to her sides and she reached up into her hair to release the clip that had been restraining her curls.

He felt her hands on his bared back and his eyes drifted closed. "What are you doing?"

"Look at me." Her voice was low and almost entrancing.

Burke did as she asked, turning slowly to face her. He fought like hell to keep his eyes focused strictly on her face, struggled to keep his eyes away from her bared chest, her naked form. She was as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so.

Cristina pressed her body into his, her breasts grazing his skin and her hands slid up his arms. "You're not looking at me."

He grasped her upper arms firmly, "What are you doing?" His voice was wavering, his arousal growing at the feeling of her skin against his.

"You can't tell?" She asked, rising on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his. It wasn't the same, he didn't feel like Owen. That's what he got for leaving her. It was his fault. This was his fault. If he had been here, she wouldn't have doing this.

She was intoxicating in many ways, but it wasn't enough to completely overwhelm his common sense. Gently, he pushed her away, looking down into her eyes, "Cristina, stop."

"It's what you want, isn't it?" She asked, unmoving. "To look at me? To fuck me senseless and make me forget all about him so that the only thing I see is you? The only thing I want is you?"

Burke shook his head fervently at her words, "I don't want you to forget him. That's not what I want you to do. I want you to stop this."

"And I want to feel alive again."

For a moment, his judgment faltered. He wanted her to be alive. He buried his hands in her hair, bringing her hard back against him and kissed her roughly. His tongue slipped past her lips, finding hers and twining with it, rubbing hard against hit. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulled her hard against his body.

Cristina moaned into his mouth, his hands sliding upwards over his arms, fingers digging into his satin skin as if she were holding on for dear life. Her heart started beating hard in her ear and her hands continued upwards, curling around the back of his neck.

Burke shivered at the feeling of something cold against the back of his neck and he pulled his lips from hers upon realizing what it was. He reached gently behind him, taking hold of her hand and pulling it away.

Softly, his thumb stroked the ring that Owen had proposed to her with. "We can't do this."

She ignored his words, trying to kiss him again. She needed this. She needed to forget Owen, to erase the last bit of him from her life. If she could forget him then she could go back to work. If she could just forget and move on then she wouldn't feel this way.

"Cristina," Burke said more slowly, pulling her arms away. "You don't want this. Not with me. It will only make things worse."

"Like they aren't bad enough?" She asked, pulling her arms away from his. "I'm a big girl. I know what I want."

His eyes softened a little, Meredith's words resonating through his head. She knew what she wanted. As much as he wanted it too, he knew that this was something that he couldn't give into.

Not now.

Tomorrow, she would hate herself and they'd have a new host of problems.

As much as he wanted to be with Cristina, as much as he desired to bury himself inside her and lose contact with all reality, he knew that he couldn't. This was the one thing that she may have truly wanted, but he could not give to her.

He wouldn't give it to her.

"I'm sorry." He murmured softly, turning and leaving her in the bathroom.

Cristina looked at the closed doors with misted eyes, her arms hanging limply at her side. Her heart had quit beating so quickly, resuming it's nearly lifeless pace that it had found in the past few weeks. She wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes still fixated on the door.

She only wanted to feel alive.

She needed to feel alive again.


	4. Chapter 4

It was just a day at work.

There was nothing special about it; no amped up surgeries, no unexpected complications. There were no cases bearing injuries that were remarkably reminiscent of his. It was the same old routine; see consults, one emergent CABG and signing charts that were due weeks ago.

Cristina didn't understand why it had been such a hard day.

Things were supposed to be easier now, they were supposed to be better. It had all been worked out in her head. She took her time to deal with his loss, she took her time and absorbed, she grieved, she went to his graveside- now she was back at work and her life was supposed to be normal again.

She had done everything she was supposed to do in order to get her life back, yet her emotions weren't keeping their end of the bargain.

When she pushed her door open, she found Burke shuffling through the refrigerator pulling out peppers and onions amongst other things. She offered him a sad smile as he stood up and looked at her in question, but said nothing to him.

What was there to say?

In her mind, she was going to come back this new woman. Everything would be better and she'd be able to tell him that she was okay and he could go. Only, she wasn't. She was coming home and it hurt more now than it had before.

Burke could see the tears pricking the corner of her eyes, the defeated slump of her posture and he immediately stopped what he was doing. He closed the small distance between her, wrapped his arms around her and frowned when she shook against him.

"Polytrauma patient?" He asked into her hair.

Cristina shook her head against his chest. She wished it had been. At least then she wouldn't seem so pathetic, so incredibly weak.

"Cardiac tamponade?"

She shook her head again and the tears fell a little harder.

Burke was nearly overwhelmed by the breakdown she was having. He couldn't imagine for a moment how he was supposed to attempt to make it better if he didn't even know what was wrong. He kissed the top of her head, his hand stroking lightly between her shoulder blades. "Slow day?" He finally uttered softly.

He was relieved when she shook her head yes.

The pair stood frozen, Cristina's breathing slowing with each passing minute and the ache in her chest easing it's grip on her. His hand continued to rub her back, to ease the pain out of her body, and her body finally relaxed against his. She stayed in his arms, maybe longer than she should have, just content to be _held_.

When she let go of him, he took a step back and looked down at her. Very gently, he reached out, wiped a lingering tear from her eye and bent to kiss her cheek. "I'm going to cook dinner." He murmured before pulling away.

It was his way of giving her a few moments to herself.

Cristina walked into the bedroom, wrapped her arms around herself and let out a soft sigh. She had done everything the way that she was supposed to, or at least she thought that she had. Maybe she was wrong.

There had to be something else that she was missing, some part of the bargain she wasn't holding up to.

She had to figure out what it was. More than anything, Cristina wanted her life back. Or at least what part of it she could have back. She was so tired of dealing with this.

She wanted desperately to be done.

Lying back on the bed, she closed her eyes and tried to figure out what she had missed. The warm smell of vegetables grilling with chicken wafted into her bedroom and tickled her nose. It seemed to wrap around her, lift her up from the drowning pool of thought and she took in another deep breath.

Cristina knew that smell.

Quietly, she crept out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, listening as Burke went about cooking dinner. Her eyes trailed over the meal simmering on the stove, watched as his hands vigorously whipped melted chocolate into a cream cheese mixture and she couldn't help but smile.

He was making her favorite meal; not a recent favorite meal, but the one that they used to share when they lived together. It was the meal that if she had a bad day, she could rely on paella and chocolate cheesecake waiting on the table when she got home.

Burke looked up, saw her smiling and he couldn't keep a smile from his face either. "Feeling better?"

She walked to his side, reached out and swept her pinky into his bowl. With a grin she licked the batter from her finger and nodded. "I am now."

He laughed softly, recalling the days that they spent together. She was impossible to cook dinner with, always picking at the peppers he'd sliced or sticking her fingers in dessert that wasn't baked yet. After all these years, he held onto a very fond memory of baking a chocolate cake and some of the whipped cream that he'd planned to top it with ending up in some very interesting places on her body.

That night, he had truly _enjoyed_ dessert.

Cristina lingered for a moment, savored another sample of the unfinished cheesecake and extended her finger to share a taste with him.

Her eyes lingered on his when he closed his lips around her finger. However innocent the gesture may have been, it stirred desire from within both of them. She moved her body forward, looking up at him with desire clouding her eyes and her hips pressed lightly into his.

Burke's lips definitely found hers first, but she would have done it herself if he hadn't. He pushed her into the counter, his hands sliding down her side. Their minds had taken them to a completely different time. They weren't in the apartment that she had shared with another man, she hadn't lost that man and they had never been apart.

It was just another bad day at work for her and he was making it better.

She could feel his desire pressing into her belly and she pressed her body even harder into his. Their tongues tangled in a duel of thrust and parry, one fighting to get control over the other. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck unable to satisfy her hunger for him.

His hand continued downward to her thigh, the other snaked around her hip to grasp her ass tightly. He groaned softly when she nipped at the center of his lower lip and then did the same to her. Everything about her was intoxicating from the scent of her shampoo to the taste of his cheesecake still lingering on her lips.

Just as Burke was pulling at her thighs to lift her into his arms a small egg timer went off, instantaneously dragging them back into reality. "That's-" He said, his voice breaking from the strain of the lust overwhelming his body.

"The flatbread." She finished, pulling away. She straightened her shirt, her cheeks flushed and turned her back to him. "Sorry. I shouldn't-"

"It wasn't you." He assured her. "That was my fault."

Cristina sighed softly, "Why don't we remain blameless and just not do it anymore?"

Burke nodded in agreement, reaching for an oven mitt. "That sounds like a plan."

She was convinced that with anybody else the following few moments could have been awkward, but for some reason they weren't. Maybe it's because he understood what she was going through. Maybe it's simply because he was Burke and she was Cristina and that's how they operated.

Words never worked well for them anyway.

They worked together in mostly silence, Cristina setting the table and Burke finishing up dinner. He took delight in the way her eyes lit up at the sight of her plate, overflowing with flatbread triangles and paella. He would have to thank Meredith later, but only after a trip to the store to buy her other favorite things.

He had never forgotten them.

Cristina looked up at him, contentment painted across her face as they ate dinner and she offered a small smile. "Thank you for dinner. It's very good."

"I thought that you might appreciate it after your first day of work. I anticipated that it would be hard for you." Burke answered softly.

Setting her fork down, she looked down into her lap. "It wasn't hard for the right reasons, though. Hard should have been seeing some sort of trauma. Dealing with a patient with his injuries. It was a normal day. There was nothing extraordinary about it."

"There's no such thing as having a right reason when dealing with this sort of thing, Cristina. You know that."

She knew that he was right.

"When it was slow, he used to bring me stuff." Her voice started out soft, making Burke and herself wonder if she was going to feel that sudden rush of sadness that she always felt when talking about Owen, but no tears ever came. "At first it was coffee, but then he decided that we drank far too much coffee for our own good. So then it turned into bottled water and fruit. He brought flowers once or twice. Weird stuff from the hospital gift shop, tacky stuff that would make me laugh and keep me entertained. I think that's why it was hard. I was there for 14 hours and it was just a day. Nobody brought me a banana. Nobody offered to take me to the v-" She stopped herself, smiling sadly.

The vent was their secret, and one she wouldn't share with anybody else. Even Burke.

"What kind of tacky stuff did he buy?" Burke asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

Cristina was surprised when she laughed slightly to herself. "One time he told me to have a heart, dumped this..plastic _thing_ on my desk and it was a heart. A poorly done, chalky, tiny red heart. I just kind of shoved it in my pocket and went about my day. When I got home he asked me if I had my heart and I pulled it out of my bag and gave it to him, glad to give it back to him. He dropped it in some water and it grew. It got like, eight times bigger. We started making jokes about cardiomegaly and just…random stuff. And then…" Her voice faded a little and she smiled, a slight pang hitting her. "He told me that was what I did to his heart."

Burke could hear the wistfulness in her voice, felt jealousy at the things he did for her- but at the same time he was happy that she'd had him. It increased the self loathing that he seemed to have developed for himself. A great part of him truly felt that if he had stayed home, that if he had left her life up to her and not been so selfish that things could have been different for them.

That Owen would still be here.

"Anyway," She murmured, "He made the slow days a little better. I think that's why it was hard."

"I'm glad you had him. That he understood you."

Cristina gazed up at him, "Really? Because sometimes I wish that I wouldn't have. It would have been easier."

"Where would you be without him, though?" He asked softly, "What would the past ten years of your life been? If he hadn't come into your life and made your slow days better? If he hadn't come into your life and you didn't do those things to his heart?"

"You know you don't have to say those things."

"I don't have to say them, but I am. Because it's the truth, it's the things you need to hear. He may be gone, but you have to realize that if he had never been here, your life may not be what it is."

"It's better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all?" Cristina quipped, "I always knew you were a romantic, I guess I shouldn't be surprised at the sentiment."

"If anything, I'm predictable." He lamented, spooning some rice onto a piece of flatbread.

"You're not." She countered, "In a million years, I would have never pegged you for the guy to leave a woman in a church."

There was an eerie detachment in her voice from her words, one that made him wonder how much it still affected her to this day.

"I wish I could take that back. I do." The regret in his voice was still there, still overwhelming.

"No you don't," She said, trying to take his mind away from it. "You just said that you were glad that I had Owen. If you hadn't of done that, I would have never met him."

He couldn't help but chuckle softly, "Very true."

Cristina hesitated for a moment, using the opportunity to bite into a piece of flat bread. She couldn't satiate her curiosity though. "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like? If we had gone through with it?"

"There isn't a day that goes by that I haven't thought of that."

"And?"

"I don't know," Burke disclosed with a small glance in her direction. "I want to say that I would have tried to make you happy. I knew.....I _knew_ that if I had gone through with it, that I would have backed off. I would have just let it be. We…I would have tried to convince you to wake up and run with me, and you would have slept in. I would have tried to convince you that red meat would kill you and end up making steak fajitas for dinner on your birthday. I'd try to talk you into moving out of the apartment and into the house with the idea of having children, but I wouldn't have told you at the time. I would have eased you into it. And despite all of my trying to not push- I probably would have done it anyway and you would have lost sight of who you were. Things happen for a reason. We weren't supposed to happen. You deserved better than that."

"You're a good guy," Cristina spoke with genuine sincerity. "We just wanted different things. It doesn't mean that I deserved any more or any less. You are a good and decent man." She paused with a smirk, "Besides, it's me. How could you not want to make plans?"

She was sure it probably wasn't the best time for a joke, but the conversation was too heavy for Cristina. The day had been heavy enough, she didn't need their exchange to drag her down even further.

"It was you." He affirmed, his smile mirroring her own. "Perhaps then I cannot be held accountable for my actions. It was a set up from the beginning."

"It's okay. Nobody can control themselves around me. It's completely understandable." She shrugged, "My life is hard like that."

Burke laughed heartily and Cristina laughed with him, the two continuing in the much needed light hearted banter.

The joyful sound echoed off the walls, slipped under the doorway and radiated out into the hall. For far too long, her apartment had been silent and dark, reminiscent of a coffin. Now there was light where there had been dark, happiness where there had been sadness. Things weren't perfect, but for just tonight, Cristina felt something besides empty.

For the first time in a long time, Cristina felt like she would be okay.


	5. Chapter 5

Cristina dug furiously through her drawers trying to find her red undershirt before work. She had a long day with three very risky cases and it was already starting badly. Clothes flew from her hands and scattered on the floor and bed behind her.

It was one fucking shirt, where the hell could it be.

She stormed out of the bedroom and found Burke sitting at the kitchen table with breakfast at the ready and a newspaper in his hand. It was unnerving to her how he'd suddenly just started making himself at home like he had.

He'd inserted himself into her daily routine like nothing had ever changed between them. He'd taken over where Owen left off and she wasn't happy about it.

Especially this morning.

"Where the hell is my red shirt?" She asked, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

"Which one?" His tone was casual, more than accustomed to the monster that would greet him each morning.

"The _red_ one. The dark red one. With the white thread around the neckline and wrists. The red one I like." She snapped, "That red one. Where the hell is it??"

"Oh." He murmured, reaching for his coffee, "It's in the washer. I started it just a few minutes ago."

"Goddammit, Burke!" She continued on her rampage, "It was clean!"

"Really? It was on the floor. Generally, one would assume that if clothes were clean that they'd be on a hangar or in the dresser." He quipped, laying down his newspaper. "You have four other red shirts."

Cristina continued to stare him down with an icy glare unlike any other that he'd suffered yet. "You _do not_ live here. You _are not_ him. You will _never_ be him. _Ever_. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I can do my own laundry. I can cook my own food. I am _okay_. Keep your goddamn hands off of my stuff."

She went back to tearing through her stuff, settling on a dark green shirt instead. With one angry thrust, she shoved it into her bag along with a fresh pair of underwear and some other necessities for a call shift.

When she walked out of her bedroom with the backpack slung over her shoulder she took one last opportunity to glare at Burke and then walk out the front door.

She just wanted him gone.

x-x-x-x-x

To say that her morning encounter with Burke had put her in a foul mood was an understatement. Most everybody to approach her quickly found a reason to get away, the majority still happy to have their body parts still intact.

Cristina stalked around the hallways, chart tucked under her arm. At the end of the hall, she watched as Meredith spoke with Shepherd. Her hand was resting against her stomach in what she probably thought was a discreet manner.

It was not.

It annoyed her, the way that Meredith tried to hide her pregnancy. It wasn't like the nurses weren't talking about it. It wasn't like she hadn't noticed the 15 pound weight gain. Meredith seemed to think that she was blind, like she was lost in some dark hole where she couldn't see.

Cristina was not.

Finally fed up with the continued so-called secret, she had decided to make her move. It was clear that she was a woman on a mission as she approached the disgustingly happy couple. They thought she couldn't handle it, somebody else being happy. They figured she was too weak to be able to deal with it.

She cleared her through, interrupting the two. "Mer."

Meredith's hand flung away from her side quickly. "Hey. Heard you're having a rough morning."

"Heard you're pregnant."

Cristina watched as Meredith's mouth opened , dismay spreading across her noticeably fuller face and then dissipating just as quickly.

"Yeah. I am." She mumbled, glancing down at the nurses' station.

Black curls bounced as Cristina nodded at the admission. She didn't care to stay and discuss it. Anybody who knew Cristina could see the small flicker of emotion pass through her deep brown eyes. "I have a surgery." She mumbled and just as suddenly as she'd approached Meredith, she walked away.

Maybe she wasn't as strong as she thought she was.

x-x-x-x-x

The trauma calls had been abundant throughout the night, the overhead calls keeping her awake and keeping her thoughts focused on Owen. No matter what she did, it was always going to seem like he should be the one there; Owen should be there and answering those calls. Not some stand-in, not some new guy.

No matter how badly she wanted to forget him, no matter how much she thought she could do- she was never truly going to move on from him. Not in the way she had planned.

Cristina knew the stages of grief; denial, anger, bargaining- she was stuck on bargaining. Or at least she had been. She would do anything for it to just be over; get rid of all of Owen's things, quit talking to his family, change the sheets.

Sleep with another man. Sleep with Burke.

There in the dark as she listened to the nonstop shuffle outside the door of her call room, she knew that she couldn't just trade him out for somebody else. She knew that she'd never be able to really get rid of the pain that resided in her very bones.

She would have to learn to live with it.

Somehow, though, she was prepared to deal with that. She was overwhelmingly sad, but not to the point where she didn't feel like she couldn't go on.

She wasn't good. She wasn't bad.

Cristina was in limbo.

She was just _okay_.

x-x-x-x-x

Burke sat on the couch that he'd been occupying for the past couple of months and rubbed his hands together. His bags were packed and physically he was ready to go. He knew that she would be okay, that he was no longer needed.

For more than a couple of weeks now, his presence was doing more harm than good.

No matter how much he wanted to hold onto her, Burke knew that he couldn't. He knew that it was time for both of them to move on with their lives- he had to let go of her forever.

Somehow, he had convinced himself that the day wouldn't come. He was sure that somehow, Cristina was going to need him forever. That she would want him to be around. Her words yesterday, however, had been a painful reminder that he would never measure up to the man that she'd spent her past ten years with. He would never be able to love her the same way that Owen had. She would never love him the same way.

Burke didn't have a chance.

He knew it was foolish to even hope that he had a chance with her. Guilt riddled his being when he remembered that he was thinking about another man's widow in the capacity that he was. It was increasingly difficult for him to think of Cristina as belonging to another man. She had always made sense to him, always felt right.

Well, almost always.

It was just a few mere moments of lingering doubt that had destroyed it all. Often he wondered how much pain he could have spared her if he had not walked away, how much easier their lives could have been. He wondered if something else would have happened to make it as hard as it is now.

Burke could spend his life living and wondering in the past, but he knew better. He knew that the past would suck him up and destroy his life if he let it. He knew that he'd have to face what the future held for him and hope like hell that there was some sort of promise there.

Promise of better days.

Promise of companionship.

Mostly, though, he wanted better days for her. He wanted companionship for her. He wanted Cristina to be happy.

He needed her to be.

In all the months he'd been in Seattle, in all of the years it had been since he left her in the church, tears prickling her expressive eyes, his hopes for her had never changed.

The front door to the apartment opened and Cristina made her unceremonious entrance. She looked tired and sad, not quite the same creature that had left him just 24 hours earlier. He gave her a slight nod in greeting, but reserved his words for a goodbye instead.

There were only so many words he would be able to get out before his voice betrayed the emotion he had painted on. He wasn't going to risk losing his goodbye to her. He wasn't going to lose his opportunity to make sure that she wanted him to go.

Cristina's eyes had found the bags, neatly stacked next to the coffee table and she knew immediately. "You're leaving." She mumbled without an ounce of discernable emotion in her voice.

"I told you that I would. When I knew you were okay." His voice is the same as hers, unmistakably flat, devoid of feeling.

They were hiding from each other.

"Okay." She answered, dropping her bag by the door and letting her coat fall there next to it. A small part of her wanted to know where he was going to go now, what he was going to do with his life- but a larger part of her decided that it was for the best that she didn't know.

For the past few days, she had been using him, been trying to turn him into something he couldn't be. She knew that doing that would only hurt both of them in the long run and it wasn't something she was prepared to do.

Cristina also knew that she couldn't control herself. Not with Burke.

Burke stood, approached her slowly with a stoic mask of a face. He reached out, softly caressed her cheek and ran his fingers through her curls. "Take care of yourself." He uttered softly, "Don't work too hard. Eat enough. Go out sometime, when you're ready."

She looked up at him, her throat constricted a little and she reached up for his hand, to pull it away from her face. There was a moment where she unmistakably gave his hand a small squeeze before releasing it. "I can take care of myself. I'm o-"

"You're okay." He nodded, finishing her sentence. "Stay okay. For me. More importantly for him."

"I will."

Burke mustered a weak smile before he turned away from her, gathered his bags and made his way to the door. He stopped to kiss her cheek, whispered a soft goodbye and then he was gone.

Burke was gone. Owen was gone.

They were gone.

Everybody was gone.

Cristina locked the door slowly, the cold metal of the deadbolt taking her back to the night when it had all started. She remembered that sudden feeling of dread that she'd felt before opening the door to Meredith and it still nicked away at her being from time to time.

Slowly Cristina turned, looked around her empty apartment and let out a soft sigh. She was alone now. For the past twelve years of her life, there had always been somebody there. There had always been a warm body in her apartment in some capacity.

Now she was alone.

Silence seemed to hang heavier over the apartment, the walls seemed overwhelmingly blank, the air had grown even more stale than it had been before. She wrapped her arms around herself, standing in the middle of a fully furnished yet eerily empty apartment.

This was her life now.

It would just take some getting used to.

At least, that's what she would keep telling herself. She would convince herself that alone was normal and okay until she actually believed it. Loneliness would become her new best friend, silence a valued companion.

She might not have been fully okay as she realized how alone she was, but she promised herself that she would be.

What other choice did she have?


	6. Chapter 6

The light had faded from her eyes. There was no emotion, no expression; only two deep brown pools of nothing. Her voice always had the same robotic tone to it, her movements always precise. There was no spontaneity, no joy, and no semblance of even a smile at the very things that used to excite her.

There was no life left in her.

Cristina did all of the things she was supposed to do- sleep, shower, eat, go to work. She went through the motions. She took care of herself. When her phone would ring, she'd answer it. When Meredith spoke to her, she spoke back.

There was just nothing behind it.

Despite the fact that Meredith knew of Cristina's awareness to the pregnancy, neither of them spoke about it. As her belly slowly expanded and time grew closer, they knew that they'd have to acknowledge it- Cristina just wasn't there yet.

Meredith didn't think she'd ever be there.

"Quit staring at Yang." Alex muttered, flipping through the chart of one of Meredith's patients. He'd never admit it, but he missed these familiar halls. When Meredith had called him for a consult on one of her patients, he was maybe a little too zealous in answering her reply.

He had come the next day.

"I'm not staring at her." Meredith answered, not tearing her eyes away. "It's not her. I don't know who that is, but it isn't Cristina."

"What? Yang has a clone now?" He mocked, closing the chart. "Leave her alone. She's fine."

She sighed, picking up the chart and jamming into a rack, frustration brimming over. "No, Alex. She isn't. She's alone."

"She's _been_ alone. It's not like it happened yesterday."

Meredith didn't answer him, didn't even look up at him. She hadn't told anybody except Shepherd about Burke staying with her. Though most of the people who knew Cristina's history with the man were long gone, Alex was a firsthand witness to it.

He had also been professionally close with Owen, had gone to Joe's with him a couple of times.

Alex wasn't blind; he could see that she was hiding something from him. His hands drew up to his hips, his crisp white lab coat shifting as he did. "What?"

Her voice was almost helpless, "She hasn't been alone. I had," she paused for a minute, worried about the reaction that she would draw from Alex. "I had somebody stay with her. Until she was back into the routine of things, y'know? Just to make sure she was okay."

His eyes were almost cold as he watched Meredith, fidgeting with a pen in her hands, picking at her name badge. She was doing everything she could to avoid eye contact. "What the hell were you thinking?" He asked in a low voice. "Why would you do that to her?"

"She needed somebody. I couldn't be there for her. Not like he was. I have Derek and the baby thing, and I knew that it wasn't going to work. I knew that she needed somebody else. He was here, he offered. I accepted." She shrugged, "It's not a thing. He's gone now."

Alex's hands dropped from his sides and he jammed them in his pocket. "It is a _thing_." Without another word to Meredith, he walked towards Cristina. He could see the same emptiness in her that he'd felt for years, only he _knew_ that hers was more vast than his would have ever been.

She had ten years with him. Ten years to get used to every little quirk and habit, ten years to become accustomed to the extra weight on the opposite side of the bed and ten years to come to rely completely upon the fact that no matter how badly a day went that he would be there to greet her when she got home.

Ten years like that was no different than a lifetime.

He stood next to her, watching as she carefully slid a new stack of progress notes onto a chart and closed the metal rings with a soft snap. Everything she did looked labored, as if she could barely move her arm enough to do it, even just sticking patient labels on the new progress notes.

"Hey." He mumbled, leaving out his usual casual insult as a greeting.

She echoed his exact word, not even looking up at him. Cristina didn't even bother to ask him why he was in the hospital. She didn't care. After her progress notes were labeled, she reached into her pocket to pull out a pen and she began to scribble down some notes on one of the sheets.

Not being one to dance around stuff, Alex leaned against the counter, his eyes boring into her. "Did you sleep with him?"

Cristina stopped writing, but didn't look up at him. "No."

"Did he try to sleep with you?"

Her pen started moving again and she licked her lips. "No."

Alex gave her a moment before continuing in his questioning, "Did you want to?"

It was an answer that she didn't have. In the past weeks she had thought about both of them far too much. Her apartment was empty, her bed, the couch- there was nobody there. There was nothing to look forward to. Her meals consisted of microwaves and cardboard boxes. Paella, lo mein, chocolate cheesecakes- they were all a thing of the past. She couldn't bring herself to dine on a dinner of beer and Chinese takeout because that was their thing; that was something that she and Owen had done together.

Her life revolved around what she couldn't do and what she didn't have.

"I asked you a question." He mumbled, reaching out to grab the tip of her pen. "There isn't a wrong answer."

"There isn't an answer at all." She mumbled, pulling her hand away.

"I kept it meaningless. A couple of chicks from Joe's. Some nurse from OB. I didn't even know their names. I didn't care about their names. I just wanted to fuck her away, y'know? I thought I could fuck her away and then it wouldn't matter anymore." His voice was low, his eyes never tearing away from the black curls masking her face. "You can't do meaningless with somebody who meant something."

"Did you fuck her away?" Cristina asked quietly in a monotone voice.

He shook his head, "Nah. And I just felt like shit the next day."

No more questions came out of her and she showed no sign of response to his words. Her hand started to move once more, scribbling down notes on her post-op patient. Cristina honestly didn't care about how she would feel the next day.

At least she would _feel_.

"He doesn't deserve you, Yang. He left you while he was still breathing. There's no such thing as a second chance."

Cristina was all too familiar with that fact; just as she was getting her second chance, Owen had died. She was drowning slowly in a pool of her own regrets and there was no hand to pull her out of it. No safety.

Alex's words were only pushing her down farther.

"Yeah. I know." She answered, retracting her pen from the paper. She dropped it back into her pocket and closed the chart. Without a single upward glance yet, she managed to pick up her chart, walk around him and put the chart back in it's rack.

Cristina had become familiar with navigating the hospital with her eyes fixated to the floor. She didn't always walk with her head hanging between her shoulders, but it was a useful tool when she wanted to avoid somebody.

It was more often than not, though.

"You look like shit, Yang." He finally said, "You're walking around here like a corpse. Your interns call you Dr. Zombie. You're the living dead."

She was well aware of the nicknames and the gossip, but just like anything else going on, she simply didn't care. Her fingers traced over another chart as she tried to figure out what she could do to get herself out of the situation she was in. "I have work to do." She finally mumbled, looking up and past him to visually map out an escape route.

Alex grabbed her arm as she tried to walk away, pulled her back to him. "Goddammit, look at me." He snapped at her, "I _know_. I know what this is like."

Cristina jerked her arm out of his, angered by the sudden physical contact. "Yeah, you know." She answered back, anger seeping into her tone. "You know what it's like. You said it yourself that it doesn't get any better."

"I was commiserating. There's a point where you realize that you can't wake the dead. You realize that no matter what you do that you're not going to bring him back. You'll know that the best thing you can do for him is to be happy. To pull yourself out of this." Alex argued, "You're nothing but a pathetic waste of oxygen right now. Do you think he would have wanted that for you? Do you think he would have wanted you to spend the rest of your life just existing because he died?"

"Who cares what he wants? He's dead." She spat, "If he wanted me to be happy then he shouldn't have-"

"What? Shouldn't have died? You really think he had control over that Yang? His brain was scrambled eggs. He didn't have a chance to even think about it. Do you think for a second that if Hunt had any sort of awareness after rolling his truck that he wouldn't have fought like hell to come back to you? He never had a chance, if he did, he would have been here. You can't blame him for what you're feeling right now. He's gone and it sucks, but you're not. You're still here. And the only thing you're doing- acting like this, you're hurting _him_." Alex contended, watching her closely. At least she was angry with him; at least there was some flicker of emotion there.

Cristina looked up at him finally her eyes misted over and her throat fully constricted. "I'm not hurting him." She uttered, her voice wavering. "He's dead. He's gone. He doesn't feel a goddamn thing."

She felt the wall that she'd built around herself start to shatter, felt herself sinking and sinking the light above the surface no longer visible. Silently, she turned away from Alex and walked away. Tears threatened to spill at the overwhelming feeling of not being able to breathe, the notion that she was beyond help and that there wouldn't ever be a hand to pull her back up.

There would be nobody to pull her to safety.

Alex's gaze followed her impossibly tiny frame until it disappeared around the corner and he sighed heavily. He'd never been best friends with her; he'd even hated her at times, but Hunt- he'd made her human. She'd shown more compassion to Izzie before she died than anybody else. Cristina was the one who told everybody she had cancer, she was the one who gotten the best oncologist in Seattle to take her case.

Cristina had been there for Izzie, been there for Alex by proxy.

She didn't deserve the crap she was dealing with, nobody really did.

Meredith joined Alex, staring at the now empty hallway. "I told you."

"Was she like that when he was here?" He asked, his mind reeling with possibilities of how to help.

She shook her head, blond hair falling loosely over her shoulders. "She was angry a lot. Mellow sometimes. She laughed a little, maybe once or twice. I think…I think they were-"

"They weren't," He finished her sentence. "She told me."

"Oh." Meredith mumbled, "She was different. She wasn't Cristina but she wasn't this bad."

"There was improvement though?" Alex asked, glancing down at her, "He got her out of bed, got her back to work and all of that? How long was he there?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. A couple months. I don't know if he's the reason she got out of bed and started doing stuff again. I wasn't there."

The last part of her statement lent itself heavily to the guilt she carried now. She should have been there instead of turfing it off to somebody else, like it wasn't her problem. Meredith just knew that she wasn't enough, knew that her pregnancy was going to make things even more difficult.

She only wished she could get rid of the guilt that accompanied it.

"Where is he at now?"

"I don't know. He left. He didn't leave a phone number or anything."

Alex hated himself for it, but he had to do something for her. Even if it meant something was getting the _other_ guy to fix stuff. Some people might have viewed it as betrayal, considered it a violation of loyalty.

Alex knew otherwise.

He knew that Hunt would have wanted her to be happy no matter what, even if it meant her moving on with somebody else. He would have wanted her to laugh, to feel, to have that light in her eyes. Hunt would always be a significant part of Cristina's life; she wouldn't ever forget him no matter who she was with.

Even if it was Burke.

"We need to find him." He finally mumbled, turning his gaze down to meet Meredith's.

Somebody needed to pull Cristina out of her darkness before it was too late.


	7. Chapter 7

Blaring overhead noise rattled his stream of consciousness and he tried to wade through the large mass of people fighting to get to the luggage claim. Tugging the thick canvas strap at his shoulder, he did his best to work through them without bumping into another person. The urgency in Karev's voice when he had contacted Burke didn't aid in his attempts to politely shrug through the crowd.

Nearing the exit, Burke became more determined to just hurry up and get the hell out of the airport. He was that much closer to Cristina, that much closer to finding out what was going on.

Cristina had promised him that she would be okay. She was okay when he left. He knew that she wouldn't be perfect- that she never could be, but she was okay.

Pushing out of the front doors, he felt a strong hand reach out and grab his shoulder. "Not so fast old man."

Burke turned and found Alex Karev standing before him. Age had been kind to the man, his boyish features still very much intact. A few gray hairs flickered along his hairline, his eyes a little more weary than he remembered them. "Karev. Where's Cristina? Is she okay?"

He would never forgive himself if he had left too soon, if she had gotten hurt somehow.

"Yeah. She's just great." He muttered. Alex glanced at the man and couldn't help but feel like he was the enemy in all of this. Owen had been his mentor, somebody he looked up to- and now he was delivering another man to Cristina on his doorstep.

Alex knew what he was doing was for the best too. He knew that Owen would want her to be happy, to _live_ her life. Not just exist. Without uttering a word to Burke, he walked ahead of the man and towards his car.

Burke wasn't sure what was going on, but he followed Alex towards the parking lot. He gripped the strap on his bag more tightly, watching him. So many different scenarios were running through his head of what could be wrong with her. He never thought Cristina to be a person to literally cause physical harm to herself- but that didn't limit her from unintentionally causing harm. She could have worked herself into the ground, could have ignored an illness, could have ended up dehydrated or-

He had to stop himself from thinking. With the state that she'd been before, his mind could only take him to the worst imaginable places.

Alex opened the backseat of his car so Burke could drop his bag into the seat and then slammed it. He looked at Burke, a cold glint in his eyes and walked around to his side of the car to get in.

The silence was making Burke nervous and he couldn't take it any longer. "Is Cristina okay?" He asked again, his voice a little more firm this time. "I just want to know what I'm walking into."

"She's dead-" Alex started, but was interrupted by Burke.

"Cristina's _what_?" Burke asked, looking at him with widened eyes.

"Dude. Chill out and let me finish talking." He snapped, already frustrated with the man. "She's breathing. She's just dead. On the inside. She's not even here. She doesn't talk to people. She hardly looks up from the floor or a chart. She's just….she's gone. She's not Cristina."

"She's _depressed_, Karev." Burke finally said once the ache that had set into his chest settled. "I would recommend not using the word dead to describe anybody to their lov-" He paused for a moment, searching for the right word, but he couldn't come up with one. He didn't know what he was to her, what she was to him.

He didn't even know if they were anything.

Alex turned off of the interstate to head into the heart of the city, "Listen. I don't like you. At all. I don't like what you did to Cristina, I don't like that you came back here. I don't like anything about you. I think you're a pompous arrogant prick and that it should have been you in that truck." He turned to look at Burke as they pulled up to a red light. "What I think doesn't matter. This is about Yang. This is about Hunt. He would have wanted her to be happy and she's not. Not right now."

"I can't replace him, Karev. If that's why you brought me here, then you may as well turn the car around."

"Of course you can't be him." He scoffed, "You're nothing like him. You're not going to replace him. You're filling a void. Cristina, sh- she needs you."

"Cristina does not want me, Karev. I can stay and take care of her- but she does not want me, nor does she need me." Burke argued.

Alex shook his head, watching the road as he accelerated slightly. He couldn't wait to get the bastard out of his car. "You don't get it. You don't know, you haven't been there. The place she's in isn't a good one. I've been there. I know."

"Obviously you came out and you're no worse for the wear." Burke countered.

"I came out with a bunch of meaningless bar fucks and I was with Izzie for _months_ before she died. Nothing is bringing her back. Not anything meaningless. She needs you."

Burke clenched his jaw. He hadn't come prepared to put himself into this position. It wasn't anything that Cristina had vocalized wanting and he wasn't sure that he could do it. "I don't know that this is a wise idea, Karev."

"Listen, you love her don't you?" He questioned angrily.

"Karev, I-"

"Just answer the damn question."

He resigned with a slight sigh as the car pulled to a stop in front of Cristina's apartment. "Yes."

"Then quit dicking around and making excuses. You want her, so have her. It's what you came here for in the first place. To be with her. Now you have her. Just…fucking make her better or I swear to God you'll regret it."

Burke looked out the window towards the doorway to her building and he shook his head, "I don't know what you want me to do, Karev."

"I want you to get the hell out of my car." Alex muttered, his gaze fixed on the car parked in front of him.

Pushing the door open, Burke glanced over his shoulder at the man and then shook his head. He wasn't a miracle worker, he couldn't fix Cristina. Not the way that Alex expected him to. He opened the back door, picked up his bag and was ready to close the door once more before Alex stopped him.

"Yes, Karev?" Burke asked, more than frustrated with his attitude.

"Make her laugh. Yang. Make her feel stuff again. Make her feel alive." Alex's voice was unmistakably softer when he spoke to Burke, years of experience behind each word as he spoke them.

He knew.

Burke gave him a slight nod, walking towards the doorway. The door was abnormally heavy to him as he pulled it open. The lighting in the apartment was eerily dim and he was almost sure it was simply his mind playing tricks on him. It was the mood, it was the emotion that belied the next few days daunting him, not his physical surroundings.

Raising his hand, he knocked on the door to Cristina's apartment, the silver 2 shaking slightly against the force. His mind was racing with the possibilities of what he would find waiting beyond the door, how she looked- if she'd been eating enough.

It eased when she pulled the door open and looked up at him. He breathed her name softly, stepping just inside the door. She looked so empty, so lifeless. He dropped his bag at his side, their eyes still fixed on each other's.

Cristina said nothing, only stood fixed in front of him. She was almost in awe of another presence in her apartment. Attachment was not an option, he would leave and she would be alone again- but just to have somebody _there_.

He stepped closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. His other hand came up, brushed a few strands of curls from her face. He murmured her name again, his eyes boring into hers. There was no light, no life. There was nothing.

She was just there.

She was dead.

"What are you doing here?" She finally mustered, still looking at him with a blank expression.

Without an ounce of caution he bent his head, kissed her softly. His fingers tangled through her black curls, tugging gently at them to bring her head back, fully exposing her lips to his. He deepened the kiss, feeling only the slightest response in her lips against his.

Burke's hands rubbed her back slowly, gently as he kissed her. His fingers found their way back to her curls and he ran his hand over her hair before he pulled his lips from hers. He looked down into her lifeless eyes and murmured her name again.

She didn't even care enough to fight him.

"I'm not okay with you just being okay. If you want me to leave, I need you to be happy." He uttered softly. "I need to know that you're going to be happy."

Cristina shook her head a little, "I'm fine. I'm doing fine. Who told you that I-"

Before she could finish her question, Burke laid a finger over her lips. "I know you better than that, Cristina. I know what happy looks like. I know that you're not." He lowered his voice, "I love you, Cristina. Let me make you happy."

Her breath remained caught in her throat, words of protest unable to escape. She knew better than to let him even try to make her happy- she was beyond help, but she held to him anyway. Slowly, her head came to rest against his chest and she closed her eyes when he held her more tightly.

There was too much darkness inside her, too much hurt.

Cristina knew that she was only going to drag him down with her.


	8. Chapter 8

Numb.

She felt so numb.

No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't feel whole again. Maybe she was afraid to feel whole, afraid of losing another piece of herself. It had been a year since he died and there was another man sleeping in their bed. There was another man kissing her, running his fingers through her curls.

Cristina had nearly lost herself with him, nearly given herself to Burke a handful of times. She liked the way that it made her _feel_, the way that her heart pounded, the way that her breathing got heavy and her body began to ache. It was the only way that she could truly feel anything but the darkness that had encroached on her life.

He was always the one to stop her, afraid that it would do more damage than good.

Sometimes, she didn't care. Sometimes she kept going, knowing that she was causing him the worst kind of pain. Her fingers would curl into his shoulders and her lips would meet his in hard and hungry kisses while her hips would grind into his, causing them each to groan in desire. Her hands would move, lower and lower until she held his length and urged him on.

How one man could have _that_ much self control, she had no clue and she hated him for it. She hated him for being so goddamn perfect all the time.

She wanted to break him.

With a dark gaze in her eyes, she crawled over his body, could already feel his arousal growing. Her lips brushed his, her hands caressed his cheek. This time, she was wearing next to nothing- it would be harder for him to stop with her bare skin on his, if she started out half naked rather than ended that way.

Burke's hands moved slowly up her sides and he kissed her tentatively, trying to keep it in the back of his mind that she wasn't doing this for the right reasons. He murmured her name and she kissed him harder, trying to silence him. His tongue swept into her mouth, met hers and twined with it. He gripped her hips, trying to keep them at a safe distance from his. His finger tips brushed against the edges of her black lace panties and in that moment, he was fairly sure that she was trying to kill him.

Cristina whispered his name pleadingly, just his kisses enough to make her heart beat the way that she wanted it to. The warmth of desire began to spread through her veins, setting her skin alight. She reached behind her, unhooked her bra and let the straps slide from her shoulders.

His hands immediately cupped her still covered breasts, fighting desperately to keep them that way. "Cristina, we can't."

"You want to," She urged, using the opportunity to sit on his erection and rub against it.

Unable to stifle a reaction, his mouth fell open and he began to tease her nipples through the very thin and very loose piece of fabric that separated his skin from hers. It was murder to keep resisting her; it was _painful_ to keep pushing her away. He wanted her so unbelievably bad and it was quickly becoming impossible to stop.

She slipped her arms out of the straps, goose bumps flaring up all over her skin as he touched and teased her. Maybe it was too soon, but it's not like there was some sort of guidebook to any of it. It's not like there were rules. The only thing she knew is that it felt too good when he touched her and it wasn't love. It was a desperate attempt to take the pain away, to feel something other than the numb.

Cristina moved her hands slowly up her body, her eyes focused on his. She drew patterns on her skin with her fingertips, working her way up to his hands. Her hands moved softly over his, fingers curled around them and she moved her hips down harder against him. "I want to," She whispered, pulling his hands back just enough to let the slinky black bra fall from her chest.

Her hands drew his up so that they were around her neck and she let her hands drag slowly back down his muscular arms.

His eyes moved over her body, taking in each perfect curve. His mouth watered at the swell of her breast and he sat up immediately, his hands tingling into her curls. He tugged softly backwards as his lips found her neck and began to kiss and suck the flesh there. He couldn't fight her anymore, not when she was practically naked and on top of him. Not when he could feel how hot she was through her panties and his boxers. Not when she was pleading with him.

He only had so much willpower.

Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes and let out another heavy breath. She loved having her neck kissed, loved that he still seemed to remember that once sensitive place that sent her over the edge. She whimpered softly when one hand slid from her shoulder and back to her breast to massage it roughly.

Burke's lips moved lower over her neck, down to her clavicle. He flickered his tongue out, savoring the sweet taste of her skin before continuing lower. Moving his hands down to her lower back, he supported her as she leaned back even farther giving herself to him. He swirled his tongue around her erect nipple, devoured her breast.

Cristina felt her back against the end of the bed, pulled him with her. She ran her fingers through his short curls as he sucked and licked her breasts. For ages, she hadn't felt this way. There was a heat in her cheeks and the room was unbearably hot. Her body was alive and yearning to be touched everywhere, her nerves firing off all at once. This was why she was doing this. She didn't care about the consequences.

She needed to feel alive.

Slowly sliding her panties from her hips, Burke finally pulled his lips from her breasts. Her pale skin was reddened from his attack on her breasts; he'd left his mark on her. In this moment, she belonged to him and nobody else. No other men existed here, nobody else held her heart in this place.

It was only the two of them.

His fingers ran over her, teased her wetness and dipped his finger inside her. He withdrew the singular finger and then replaced it with two and curled them upwards. He rubbed the rough patch inside her and bent to crush his lips against hers, to swallow her cries.

He had forgotten how much he'd loved this, to feel her writhing beneath him, feel her seeking out and begging for more. Right now, she wanted _him_.

She whimpered softly, louder when he brushed his thumb roughly against her clit. Her hips began to rock hard into his hand, nearing release. Her legs trembled around his hips, her muscles quaking as orgasm began to overtake her body.

Waiting until she was completely relaxed, he finally withdrew his fingers from inside her, tugged at his boxers. He couldn't wait to be inside her anymore. Good intention didn't have a snowball's chance in hell against the divine pleasure that she offered him.

Burke eased himself inside her; she was so damn _tight_, untouched for far too long- or maybe not long enough. It took everything in him to control himself, to not pound into her relentlessly until he was spent. A small grunt slipped from his lips against her shoulder, the size difference between the two of them was not lost in translation.

Her fingernails pierced his flesh as he worked his length inside her, a loud moan leaving her lips. She dug her heels into the backs of his calves and pushed her hips upwards despite the fact her body told her to pull them away.

Unable to fight his own need any longer, his hips began to move at a steady and firm pace. He gripped her hips, pulled them into his as he crashed into hers. Her tensed muscles only served to drive him crazy and despite his efforts to ease up on her, he just _couldn't_.

She was so soft, like silk, burning hot and full of emotion. Her body was so incredibly responsive to every caress, every thrust, every brush of his fingertips. He kissed the breath out of her, his hips moving harder and faster, his length driving deeper inside her. He'd swear that he hadn't been so deep in her before, swear that he'd never known need until he knew her- _she_ was his other half.

Cristina kissed him lasciviously, her fingers easing up on his shoulders. She drew her legs up, letting him move harder. With each thrust she whimpered, pleasure overwhelming her. She liked this- not thinking or dwelling, only feeling.

She could have stayed there forever.

Reaching between the two of them, she began to rub herself- wanting to be overtaken by orgasm again. She was surprised to find her hand pulled away and pinned against the bed. Her eyes flew up to meet Burke's and they were dark with lust, his gaze penetrated her very being in that moment and it took her breath away.

He rubbed her softly at first, traced agonizing patterns around her clit. He felt her quiver around him and he uttered her name before pinching her gently. As she began to tighten, he increased the pressure against her, pressed his lips to hers. Burke grunted with each thrust against her soft lips as she tightened impossibly tight around him, ignoring the pain in his groin he continued to thrust with abandon inside her until she started to relax and then he snapped inside her, over and over again. His hips moved erratically until he was completely spent and he collapsed over her.

Regret should have been the first thing she felt, but it wasn't. She only wanted to feel more, she wanted to do it again and again, wanted him to fuck the sorrow out of her bones. Her hands came up to move softly over his shoulders and then grip them tightly. She didn't want him to leave her, didn't want him to move.

He was so _warm_, so alive.

Lying beneath him, she closed her eyes and breathed in his sweet scent. In this place, she felt something other than numb, something more than alive. She didn't care to seek out a name for the feeling that had settled over her, didn't want to- she only wanted to keep feeling it.

She wanted to keep feeling _him._

When he whispered her name to pull her from her thoughts, she turned her head to face him and smiled softly- a real smile, no matter how small. Her lips found his again and Cristina kissed him tenderly.

He had taken away her pain; at least for now.


	9. Chapter 9

There's a difference between being alive and living.

There's a difference between letting go and _letting go_.

There are differences and she notices them. Every day, Cristina notices the differences. She can't let herself notice the similarities. She can't let herself notice the things that make her happy because if she does, then she's _letting go _and she's just not ready.

Cristina sat at the nurses' station, charting on her most recent surgery- a simple AVR. She'd been back for weeks and they were still taking it easy on her. Part of her wanted to be bothered by it but it was the same part that wanted to be happy, that was ready to move on. She wasn't supposed to move on yet, she wasn't supposed to let go.

The entire reason he was gone- it was her fault. Not Burke's. If she had done what she was supposed to, she wouldn't feel this way, he would be here and things would be fine.

The things she was feeling now- those things were her punishment.

Far too often to call it occasionally, she would let herself go with Burke- her id far too strong to suppress for long. It went along with the part that wanted to be happy, the part that wanted to kick somebody's ass for taking it easy on her. The part that wanted to breathe and be alive.

But Owen- Owen should be breathing and alive and he wasn't, so she couldn't.

With a small sigh, she closed the chart and pushed it off to the side. Her palms, cold, made contact and she moved to push herself up from the chair that she'd shrunken away into when a pair of hands pushed her back down into her seat.

Cristina spun in the direction of her assailant and found Meredith standing over her, anger painted across her expression and her eyes flickering with disdain.

"What?" Cristina asked, caught off guard by the sudden outburst.

"You. You're what. Or you're not. I don't know. But this? You? It has to stop." Meredith blurted. She hadn't really had a plan whenever she decided that she was going to confront Cristina- only other than making her open her damn eyes and realize that she was being...whatever she was being.

"Meredith," Her name came out as more of a soft groan to indicate that she was being tedious and that Cristina did not have the energy to deal with her.

"Cristina." Meredith repeated her name with a venom that she oft reserved to speak of lovers who'd scorned her or her mother. "No. You don't get to do this. You don't get to act like I'm annoying you or being excessive. You don't get to put the blame on me. You've checked out. Completely. Checked. Out. And I need you. I need you to check back in because I'm tired, and I'm trying to be a mom and I'm going to jack my kid up and I don't have anybody to talk to about it."

"I'm not checked out. I'm right here." Cristina argued weakly. Even she knew that she was gone- too far gone.

"No. You're not here. You're either out there somewhere," Meredith snapped, waving her hands erratically in the air, "Or you're at home getting your brains fucked out with a man that you otherwise barely acknowledge. Which I'm sure he appreciates, by the way."

"Burke is fine."

"No, he isn't. You're not fine and I'm not. What the hell is it going to take for you to come around? I gave you time. I didn't tell you about the baby until you asked. I didn't make you stick around when I was in labor no matter how badly I needed you- because I knew that you couldn't handle it. I didn't make you come over when everybody was fawning over it and all I wanted to do was lock myself up in a room. I have issues too, Cristina. I have issues and my issues are way bigger than yours."

Cristina's eyes narrowed and she stood up, "Oh really? What? Your mommy issues?" She asked, anger causing her blood to boil slightly. "Are those your bigger issues? He's dead, Mer. He's dead because of me and now I'm fucking some other guy in his bed. I'm using somebody else to forget about him."

"He's been dead, Cristina. Get over it." Meredith spat back at her, internally flinching at her own words.

Cristina glared at the woman she once considered her person and then turned to walk away. She wasn't going to fight with her. She didn't have the energy to do it. A hand closed around her wrist and jerked her backwards and Cristina faltered, "What the hell is wrong with you??"

"What the hell is wrong with _you_?"

"I'm _fine_."

Meredith scoffed, "You're not fine and you know it." She pushed her back down into the chair. "You're talking. I don't care if I have to sit on you, I don't care if I have to drug you. I'm tired of this, Cristina. Burke might not be able to say anything and Alex may be able to turn a blind eye, but me? I won't. I refuse to do it. It's time for you to get over this."

Cristina looked away from her, down at the ground, only to have Meredith tip her eyes back upwards, holding her chin.

"Cristina Yang doesn't walk around with downcast eyes." Meredith said quietly, trying to keep her eyes cast upwards. "Stop. Stop it." There were tears brimming in Meredith's eyes as she stared at her friend, searching for even an ounce of the fire that she once had.

Cristina's airway constricted as she saw the tears in Meredith's eyes and she tried to look away again but she couldn't. Her own eyes began to sting but she refused to let herself cry. She was broken enough as it was. She didn't need the tears to confirm it. "Don't." She finally managed to choke out. "Don't do that."

"What? You don't want to see what you're doing to me?" Meredith asked in a wavering voice, a tear spilling onto her pale cheek. "You don't want to see what kind of shit you're putting your person through?"

"I know." Cristina uttered, pulling Meredith's hand away and starting to look away again.

Meredith jerked her head back towards her, "Don't. I want you to see what the hell you've done. And then I want you to know that I'm not the only one you've done it to. Alex. Me. Burke. We're all here. We've all done everything we can. We're doing everything we can, when all we really want to do is pull the goddamn plug."

"Then fucking pull it."

Blond hair found the dampness on Meredith's cheeks from her tears and stuck there as she shook her head. "We don't give up. _You_ don't give up."

"I gave up."

"No." Meredith repeated, "You don't give up. Either you start fighting...you start fighting right now, or I swear to God, Cristina- I'll have you fucking committed. This is ridiculous. Talk to me. Quit fucking Burke. Quit drinking with Alex and pretending like everything is okay. Quit avoiding me. Fucking talk."

"I don't talk."

"Yeah. I know. And look where it's gotten you. So you're talking now. Not to Burke, Not to a shrink, not to anybody else. You're talking to me."

Cristina tried to look past the reddened eyes of her best friend, tried to ignore the black circles underneath. "What the hell do you want me to say."

"Tell me why you gave up." Meredith finally let go of her face, knowing that she'd never get the answers out of her if she had to look her straight in the eye.

She had to be able to hide behind something.

Just as Meredith had predicted, Cristina's eyes were once again downtrodden. She picked at the hem of her lab coat and cleared her throat slightly. There was no way to explain her reasoning- no way to explain what it was that was holding her back. The part of her that wanted to be alive was pushing- was fighting for her to say anything, begging for her to speak up and break free.

The necrotic part of her, the part that had been gone for far too long ate at her insides with guilt. That part of her made her feel insignificant and stupid- like somehow her problems weren't enough to justify the things she was doing.

That part always won.

"I miss him." Cristina finally lied. "I think I need to move. Maybe away from here."

"So you want to run away from your problems rather than face them?" Meredith asked, disappointment apparent in her tone. "Also not a characteristic of Cristina Yang. You've lost yourself."

"So?" Cristina asked bitterly.

"So, you need to find yourself." Meredith mumbled, shaking her head. "You are on the brink of losing _everything_. I can't keep this up. I can't keep pretending to care when I know you don't give a damn. Alex isn't going to keep driving your sorry ass home when you decide to self medicate. Burke isn't going to sit around your house and only be acknowledged whenever you decide that it's convenient. We're done, Cristina. We're all done."

"Fine." Cristina answered in a hollow voice. "Be done. I don't care."

"Yeah. I know. We all know. You've told us enough." Meredith muttered, feeling her pager vibrate at her hip but ignoring it.

"Then why the hell are you still here?"

Meredith brushed her hair from her face, watching what little part of Cristina that remained squirm under her cold gaze. She needed her person so badly but she was finally succumbing to the fact that she would never have her back and that there was nothing she could do about it.

As the realization struck Meredith that she was truly on her own with her problems, a combination of anger and sadness overtook her and she cleared her throat, trying to choke down the emotion that accompanied the realization.

Despite the maelstrom inside her, Meredith's posture straightened and she looked down at Cristina. "Owen is gone. He's been gone for a long time. This thing that you're doing to yourself, whatever it is? He doesn't care. He's gone. He's dead. You don't believe in heaven or hell or anything else- you believe in science. Science says that he's a set of bones in a box six feet in the dirt. He's not angry, he's not happy, he's not sad- he doesn't have a fucking clue. So this thing that you're doing? Whether it's that you're guilty because of what you're doing with Burke or you feel responsible for whatever or it's punishment or whatever you're doing? He doesn't give a fuck, Cristina. Move on. Let go. Please. Otherwise you'll be right there with him sooner rather than later. You've already lost your friends. Don't give up your life either."

Cristina watched the ground intently, watched as Meredith's feet disappeared from her view and she finally looked up with tears in her eyes that she refused to let Meredith see.

She wanted to stop her- ask what she meant by saying that she'd lost her friends. Would she go home to an empty apartment? Had Meredith given up? Would Alex simply stop trying?

It wasn't what Cristina wanted.

An overwhelming feeling of helplessness overtook her, grasped her heart tightly and squeezed the very breath from her lungs. Cristina had never wanted any of this- but she'd been able to deal before. Now she was in a freefall and she had no control, had no ideas, had no hope.

There was a part of her that wanted to live again, a part that would never be overcome by the dead parts, that would never give up.

She just didn't know how to start fighting.


	10. Chapter 10

Burke would never leave her. He promised to stay there; he said that he wanted her to be more than okay- that he wanted her to be happy.

She wasn't happy, he couldn't leave.

End of story.

Except she _knew_. Somewhere she knew that Meredith was right- Burke wasn't content to be her fuck buddy, to just be an object of lust every once in a while. It wasn't helping her, it was hurting him. Cristina _knew_ in the back of her mind that Burke would want to leave, would want to protect her from herself and realize that his presence was only doing her harm, was only making her worse.

When she got home from work, Cristina found the lights off in the apartment. She was surrounded in a stifling silence. She listened, unmoving for him to snore, to hear some sort of stirring- anything to indicate that he was still there.

_Nothing_.

Without flipping the lights on, she shuffled through the living room dropping her bag and keys along the way, and then her shoes. Somewhere along the way she shed the armor that she had been wearing for all of these months- the last bit of strength that she had to keep her emotions in check and the damn burst.

Cristina sank onto the side of the bed, the breathe leaving her body as she fought to stifle sob after sob and wiped angrily at tear after tear. She didn't cry- Cristina Yang didn't cry. She didn't give up. She didn't back down. She didn't walk around with her eyes downtrodden. She didn't move with a sag in her shoulders.

Her arms wrapped tightly around her waist and she hunched over, not even trying to fight the tears anymore. She'd never been more lonely, never felt more alone. She knew that she was lost, she knew that she was fucked up and hurting, she was well aware of what she was doing to herself and she had been for a long time. She'd let it go for so long that she just didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

As the tears fell, Cristina found herself wishing that she could have a scalpel- wishing that somehow she could excise everything that was dead inside her, wishing she could feel alive again. The room was dark and the air was chilled and the only thing she could think of was that this was her life now and it was nobody's fault but her own.

Owen was gone because of her.

Meredith. Burke. Alex. They were all gone because she had done something to push them away. The place she'd found herself in now was because she'd put herself there. Slowly, the tears dried and turned to anger at herself and then turned into a deep retrospect of what had happened. She allowed herself to process the moment when she had first found out that Owen was dead. Allowed herself to feel those emotions overwhelm her again.

She tried to imagine his eyes now, looking into hers and soothing her. She longed to remember what it felt like to feel his arms wrapped around her, keeping her safe and secure but she couldn't feel him anymore- couldn't see him.

Burke was what she saw, what she could almost feel.

Owen was gone and he wasn't coming back. As much as she wanted to feel him, wanted to see him- he was gone.

_He's gone_.

Cristina's breathing slowed and she pulled a pillow close, hugging it into her chest. Her eyes, still damp, slowly started to drift closed and she kept repeating to herself over and over again that Owen was gone. He was gone and what would happen if he were still here didn't matter, because he wouldn't be.

She was still there. She was still alive.

Owen was the one who had died on that day- not her.

_He's gone_.

x-x-x-x-x

Cristina woke to a shuffling noise in her living room. She rose cautiously from her bed, the corners of her eyes matted from the unceasing tears the night prior. Annoyed with the disturbance in her vision, she wiped at the gunk there and blinked a couple of times.

Another bout of shuffling and then the clanging of pots caused her to furrow her brow. Cautiously, she opened the door and crept just a couple of inches out of her bedroom trying to see the source of the ruckus.

She was surprised to see Burke in the kitchen and making breakfast. "Y-you're still here?" She asked him in a stunned tone.

Burke looked up at her with an arched eyebrow, took note of the puffiness around her eyes but said nothing- he knew if he asked if she was okay that her only response would be that she was 'fine'. His answer was no more than a simple "Yes."

If Cristina were the type of person who hugged somebody, in that moment she would have hugged him. Instead, she crossed the room to pour herself a cup of coffee and instead of scampering back into her room as per usual, she stayed. She sat at the table and looked at the cup for a minute before glancing back over at him. "What are you making?" She asked quietly.

Coughing to cover up a slight smile, Burke fought to stay casual in his response. "Just some eggs. I have toast and fruit too. If you want."

She nodded a little, but didn't say anything. Cristina was still savoring the feeling of relief that he was there, that he hadn't left her.

Burke was there. He was there and not gone and he was real and whole and he didn't want her to hurt. He was alive. She was alive.

She just needed to process it, she needed to remind herself.

Continuing about the task of making breakfast, Burke glanced up at her from time to time, observed from a distance as she traced her finger around the rim of the burgundy coffee mug that she seemed to prefer so much. The fact that she was sitting there, asking for something to eat- it meant something. What, he wasn't sure of, but he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope for her.

He wanted his Cristina back, the fighter, the one with the walls who was stubborn to a fault, who wouldn't change for anything and the one who would never back down from a fight. He _needed_ her to come back- even if it meant that he would have to leave.

Burke had been prepared to leave since the moment that he'd walked in the door- at some points, he'd looked forward to it, unable to bear seeing her in the state that she was in. The woman who lay before him most of the time was not Cristina, as a matter of fact, she had become a woman that at many times he loathed- he never thought it possible.

He also knew it wasn't _her_.

After plating their breakfast, he carried their plates over to the table and sat hers down in front of her. She stood for a moment and he half expected her to give up at that point- he would have been okay with it.

At least she was trying.

Instead, she walked into the kitchen to refill her coffee and in the process filled his too. Again, without words she walked back to the table, put his cup down next to him and took her seat. They ate like that, in silence- no words needing to be spoken.

Sitting down to eat a meal was hardly a landmark, but it was a step. It was forward movement. Just like that, there was a kindling of hope inside him- the urge to keep on for just a little bit longer. Burke wouldn't give up yet.

_Just a few more days_, he told himself.

Cristina finished her breakfast and nudged the plate away gently. She felt awkward sitting in silence with him, but didn't want to make conversation either. There wasn't even conversation to be made- she was in a different place right now and she was trying to adjust.

She needed time.

After she finished her coffee she carried her plate into the kitchen, set it in the sink and left her cup on the counter. She started back towards the bedroom without saying a word and then paused and glanced over at Burke.

He was looking intently at her- his expression a mixture of contentment, curiosity and restraint. His brow quirked slightly in question but he remained silent.

She didn't have any answers.

Every step had a purpose as she crossed the living room, reaching out with her hand she laid a palm against his cheek and kissed him- not one of the come hither kisses that she'd lay on him when she was running from her pain- but a soft one, one that was an apology and a promise all at the same time.

She _wanted_ to try harder.

Reaching out as she pulled away, Burke caressed her cheek softly as if somehow his manipulations could take the swell out of her cheek from the tears she shed alone. As if his actions could somehow eliminate the guilt he now had niggling at the back of his mind for even considering giving up on her. "Cristina," He murmured softly as his gaze rested upon hers. It's like he could see _her_, somewhere in there trying to work her way out. Just a flicker, maybe

Maybe he only saw it because he wanted to be there- but he saw it nonetheless.

Her posture straightened slightly and she cleared her throat once more. With her lips pressed together she searched for the exact thing that she wanted to say to him, the one thing she could say to make it all better- but sorry wasn't enough. So she said the only thing that she'd been able to think of since coming home to an empty apartment the prior evening.

"Don't leave." Her tone was sure, her voice steady.

Burke nodded slightly, understanding. He stood, leaned over and kissed the top of her head, an arm around her waist for a few fleeting moments sufficing as the closest thing she would ever accept as a hug. "I won't leave."

Cristina closed her eyes, relaxed for only a moment before she straightened back out again. Just because he wasn't leaving didn't mean that everything would be better.

It meant he wasn't leaving right now. She still had Meredith to fix, still had Alex.

More importantly, she still needed to fix herself.


	11. Chapter 11

Alex watched Cristina with well hidden curiosity as she picked at a peanut shell. Typically when they were thirty minutes in, she had already cleared at least three vodka infused drinks and was nursing a beer in between. Maybe a shot or two.

Forty-five minutes in, she was usually even more quiet and the glazed over look in her eye would set in.

Usually an hour later, hour and a half later if he'd had a bad day- he was dragging her away and putting her into his car to take her home. Cristina never fought him, she had no fight left in her. There wasn't ever much that she said to him, nothing profound ever happened- it was just the two of them lost in themselves, one more so than the other.

Except tonight.

Tonight was different.

Tracing a slender finger around the rim of her vodka tonic, Cristina stared intently at the wall in front of her. The moisture on the drink had long been swept away. They had been there nearly an hour and she hadn't taken a drink. The green napkin lay in wake, shriveled and a mere resemblance of an actual napkin, saturated with condensation from the unconsumed concoction.

Without preamble, Cristina's finger stopped and she turned abruptly to look at Alex. "I'm done."

His eyebrows raised only slightly, trying to decipher exactly what the two words meant. It's not like they were complex words in the English language- but with Cristina nothing meant what it was supposed to. "You're done." He repeated, the permanent sneer that had become etched into his expression making a reappearance. "You haven't even touched your drink."

"I'm done." Cristina repeated, looking back down. "He's gone. I'm tired. I…I can't keep it up anymore. I'm done."

Alex gave a slight nod, "Then let's get the fuck out of here. I'm tired of you killing my mojo."

The two left abandoned their drinks, walked through the crowd of people jabbering and carrying on about dashed hopes. Smoke rings swirled around them, causing their exit from the bar to feel even more dramatic than it had been.

Cristina's nose wrinkled slightly upon inhaling a puff of second hand smoke that invaded her space prior to pushing the door open. "I'll be so glad when we can go back to Joe's." She muttered under her breath.

"You got us kicked out."

"I was in a place. Whatever. I'm not there anymore. We can go back." Cristina answered, embarrassment twisting her stomach into knots.

Alex grabbed her arm, stopping her abruptly. "No. No, you're always going to be in _that_ place. Maybe not all of you- but there's a piece of you that's going to be in that place because _he_ is in that place ."

She was taken aback by his sudden admission but absorbed his words as if they were law. Cristina would never admit it, but she needed help and there was nobody better suited to offer that help than Alex. He'd been there in a way- maybe not to the extent she had been, but close enough. "Fine. Whatever."

His grip loosened on her arm, but he didn't pull his hand away. Not yet. "You can't go back. When you come out of there, you can't go back because w- Mer can't take this shit from you anymore. You'll be lucky to get her to talk to you as it is."

"No I won't. It's Meredith. There will be a thing and we'll talk- she'll talk. I'll listen. She'll cry. I'll let her do whatever and then it will be okay." Cristina explained, looking away from him.

Part of her felt ashamed- it was probably the most she'd said to him in one span of ten minutes than she'd said to him for a long time. There was still an ache in her chest, and it hurt to breathe from time to time- but she was accepting things. She was trying to move on.

Cristina _wanted_ to be present.

She just didn't want to apologize for everything; she didn't want to admit that she'd checked out, that she'd given up. It was too hard- it had all been too hard.

For a fleeting moment, Cristina wondered when she'd gotten to the point where things were too hard. Nothing had ever been hard for her before, yet now she was in a place where getting up in the morning was a chore in and of itself, let alone admitting that she had been absent.

Alex could see the place she was in- he had been there too and his grip tightened again. "Don't talk to her yet. You can talk to me, just…don't talk to her. Give her time. Give yourself time."

"I don't need time." Cristina protested, "I'm fine."

"No you're not. You're going to rush through this and fuck it up. I know you, Yang. I know what you do. Just shut the fuck up and listen to me. It's not going to be just a thing if you go to Meredith now. If you tell her what you just told me, she may kill you. Just stay the fuck away from her. Take your time. She's not going anywhere." Alex was quickly losing his patience with her.

For so many reasons, he _enjoyed_ the fact that he was losing his patience with her.

It had been too long.

Cristina's eyes bored into him as she tried to find good reason to argue with him- but she was coming up short. "I just want it to be over."

"How long did it take you to figure that out?" Alex quickly shot back at her. "Don't push it Yang. I've been there. I know how it works. Just…trust me. Okay? Trust me. I don't want you to go back to that place. I'm tired of dragging your drunk ass home."

After a few more moments of a solemn silence, Cristina finally nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Fine. I'll wait."

"Good." Alex's voice was hollow, controlled and precise. He didn't want to let on how big of a step it was for her because he _knew_ she'd get ahead of herself if he did.

God only knew that he did it to himself far too much.

"Let's get the hell out of here. If I don't have you home, the warden may start to worry." Alex muttered, too uncomfortable with his own thoughts to continue standing there.

"Burke's not a warden. He hardly pays attention." Cristina knew she was full of shit before she even said it. She knew how much he cared about her.

Alex snorted, "Yeah. I'm sure."

"Shut up."

He unlocked his car door, walking around to his own side to jerk the door open. "You love him?"

Cristina's hand tightened around her handle, but she didn't pull it back. She looked up at Alex as if she was searching for some sort of approval in his eyes- some sign that showed that it was okay for her to say yes.

She didn't see anything at all.

"It's different." She stammered, "It's not the same. They're not the same."

"But you still love him." Alex concluded.

She pulled her door open and slid into the car wordlessly. Honestly, Cristina didn't know if she loved him or needed him or if it was both. She hadn't even spent real time with him since he'd been there- not before they had breakfast. Not before she asked him not to leave. He was present, he took care of her, but she wasn't there.

They were at least a mile from the bar by the time Cristina finally answered, "I don't want him to leave. I don't know if I love him. But I know I don't want him to leave."

"Burke wouldn't leave if you held a gun to his head." Alex promised her, "Look at the crap you put him through. Not that he didn't deserve it for being a self righteous bastard, but if he didn't leave through that- if he kept giving you chances, he sure as fuck ain't going anywhere."

Alex wanted to wish that he would, wanted to hate him for trying to fill some sort of void that Owen left, but he couldn't. He had watched over Cristina where they hadn't- he had given her something that Meredith and Alex couldn't have offered her. The physical affection, the closeness to keep her somewhat connected to humanity- even if by carnal means.

They all had a part in her life, even _him_.

"He wanted to." Cristina mumbled, watching the city fly past them.

"Wanting to and actually doing are two different things. He wouldn't have been able to do it. The only one who could actually carry through with that crap is Meredith. "

She looked over at him, granting him the slightest hint of a smile. Her eyes sparkled only minutely when she saw his reaction. "You wouldn't give up on me." Cristina taunted in a low voice.

"No, but I'll push you out of the fucking car if you don't shut your pie hole." He muttered, clearing his throat and glancing the other way to cover his own nearly imperceptible smile.

Cristina looked out the window and for the first time she felt something other than empty inside, something other than heavy and lost and hopeless. Maybe it was joy? Hope? Happiness?

It had been so long since she'd known those feelings she wasn't really sure how to identify them. Whatever it was, she wanted more of it and that slightest twinge of whatever it was that made her heart race a little bit faster was enough to sustain her for another day.

She wanted to keep going, at least for another day.


	12. Chapter 12

After all these years, Burke still knew that things with Cristina were never as blatant as her personality would let them seem. As a matter of fact, it was just the opposite- Cristina was subtle in her changes, never made her intentions known.

Sometimes he used to think it was a game, a way to frustrate him in bold new ways.

Now he knew, and he _appreciated_, that it was just Cristina.

Cristina would never be the same woman that he once knew- the woman who danced around their living room so many years ago- so blissful. There would always be a weight on her shoulders, no matter how heavy or light. But she was still Cristina.

He'd never loved a woman so much as he'd loved her, and he never would.

It had all started one morning with breakfast, with the simple act of sitting at a table and then telling him not to leave. From there, it went to sitting with him occasionally in the living room and reading. It moved from there to dinner and breakfast, both eaten at the table with idle conversation.

Last night it went from kisses that were desperate to kisses that were soft and passionate, eyes that were softer and not empty. Touches that were tender and time consuming, rather than frenetic and unforgiving.

Something else was there.

Burke watched her as she slept, marveling at how she seemed to sleep even more peacefully. Unable to resist her, he reached out, ran his fingers through her curls and wrapped an arm around her hips to hold her closer. He laid his head against her pillow, breathed her in for a moment before whispering a soft 'I love you' against her hair.

She was asleep right now. It was safe.

Or so he thought.

"I heard you the first time you told me that," She mumbled, unmoving. "And I heard you just now."

His grip loosened momentarily, "The first time?"

"Before. When I was an intern."

A small smile crossed his lips, quickly replaced by a sheepish grin. "I was afraid you'd fall out of the bed and head for the hills if I told you then."

"I probably would have." Her voice was somewhat tired, but awake enough to make him wonder how long she had been pretending to sleep.

Burke found it comforting that she wasn't trying to run out of bed.

"And now?" He asked softly, his silky tone low and laced with some sort of hope that he knew he shouldn't have.

"Do I look like I'm running?" She asked, warm brown eyes finally sliding open. She glanced over her shoulder at him and then looked back towards the wall, closing her eyes again.

Cristina knew that some form of reciprocity was required.

"I love you, too." She murmured, "Just… not like before. It won't be like before."

Burke understood that things would never be like before, it's a term that he'd come to deal with on his own. There wouldn't ever be a wedding or a family, houses and celebrations. Their relationship- this form of their relationship had formed out of necessity, not longing.

He'd had his chance for the former before- he ruined those chances by his own devices. Now he would take whatever she'd give him, just to spend his days with her.

"That's okay. It doesn't have to be like before," He answered, kissing the top of her head. "I don't want it to be."

She nodded slightly, lying comfortably in his arms. The first night that Cristina had fallen asleep with Burke, with him holding her- she was afraid that her mind would play tricks on her when she woke up. She was afraid that somehow her body would believe that it was Owen there with her and not Burke.

When her eyes fluttered open that first day, she realized that nobody would ever feel like Owen.

Just like nobody would ever feel like Burke.

Cristina felt his lips brush against her shoulder, his hand wandering slowly along the curve of her hip and down towards her thigh. His fingertips explored the sensitive skin beneath, somehow magically teasing while his hand continued sliding along. Lips made their way up her shoulder to her neck and he used his free hand to pull her curls away.

Leave it to Burke to be turned on by hearing those damn three words.

Rolling her shoulders over slightly so that she could face him, Cristina's eyes met his, darkened by desire but warmed by hope. Probably love.

Definitely happiness.

She kissed him slowly, her hand sliding over his wandering one to stop it. "Wait," She murmured against his lips before pulling back.

"What?" He asked, his hand immediately stilling, "What's wrong?"

Burke was concerned that perhaps he had the wrong idea- that things weren't where he thought them to be. His concerns were silenced with another kiss and a slight glimmer in her eye before her beautiful lips parted to speak.

"I want to leave here," She murmured, "Not Seattle, but the apartment. I want to start over. We need to."

Cristina was tired of feeling that lingering bit of guilt for desecrating what had been their's- she knew that Owen didn't care, that he couldn't even care- but she cared. Most times it wasn't enough to stop her, but just enough to leave that nauseated feeling well settled into her stomach and eating away at her insides.

It was the last part of letting go.

"We can do whatever you want," He responded soothingly, "Anywhere you want. Whenever you want. Do you want to go now?"

She laughed softly, amused by his eagerness to acquiesce to her requests. Before she could respond, his lips were on hers again- this time in a more passionate kiss, his arms snaking around her to hold her tightly. Cristina wasn't sure of what she'd done to earn it this time- there were no admissions or expressions there.

Burke pulled his lips only slightly from hers, "Never stop laughing again." He spoke in a whisper against her lips.

Something so simple and it had come back to her without production, without fanfare- yet something that he apparently missed a great deal. Cristina was somewhat speechless at the reaction though.

Chalking it up to not seeing what it had been like from his perspective, she merely agreed with a slight nod, her fingers curled around the back of his arm. "We can look today," She finally spoke, her eyes sparkling slightly as the sunlight penetrated the curtains, shining on her face.

His fingers stroked through her curls, tucked them behind her ear as he took in her expression- she looked nearly serene this morning. Taking a moment to commit it to memory, just in case it wasn't lasting, he couldn't help but feel that this would be their life forever.

Burke would be okay with that if it was.

"You're thinking," She murmured, seeing the contemplative look upon his face. "What?"

"Nothing," He answered, shaking his head with a small smile. His lips brushed hers again, pulled her body close to his. A few years ago, the thought of just _being _would have never been enough for him. He couldn't help but feel guilt and regret at the same time at the thought that he didn't just accept what she was then, what they were.

If he had accepted it then she would have never known Owen, would have never known the struggles they went through, would have never had the pain that she experienced when he died.

She would have never stopped laughing.

He knew that he was wishing for nobody else to know that joy that she could bring to a life too, least of all a man who was but a memory now.

There would always be a hint of guilt on both of their parts, he decided. No matter how long or how far, they would always know that things could have happened differently- but it was a part of life, what might have been, what should have happened.

Moving on was the more important part, and it seemed that they were finally doing that. Moving on, moving forward.

It was something that Burke had never imagined would happen again.

Cristina's lips on his drew him back to reality once more and he kissed her back gingerly at first, then intensifying with passion as the kiss lingered. Her hands, previously tracing innocently against his muscular arms, were now sliding down over his shirt and tugging at the hem to pull it off.

Their bodies melded together and for a few breathless moments, the world seemed to fade from them, the consequences and actions and regrets and unbidden emotions. It was the escape that Cristina had sought not so long ago, yet it was different because there was meaning behind it.

Meaning that she wasn't scared of, but meaning that she wanted to wait to embrace.

"Not here," She murmured softly against his lips, her hands pressed gently against his chest. Cristina wasn't sure how to explain it- but she wanted to wait until their bed was their own to truly make love to him.

Guilt had no place in that moment that the two would become one.

Without question, Burke pulled back slightly from her, giving her room to breathe. His hands ran over her curls once more as he studied her face and then finally pulled away all together to get ready for the day.

Pulling the sheet up around her, she sat and watched him as he got ready, received his kiss before he informed her that he was going to make breakfast and then she was alone.

Looking around the bedroom that once belonged to her and Owen, she studied the walls that were still bare and the floor littered with Burke's clothes and hers. Guilt tugged at her heart when she realized that she'd all but removed every physical piece of him from her life.

Cristina knew the apartment was too much, knew that she couldn't continue forward with Burke there- but she had other things left. His flag, pictures, clothes. There were pieces of him left that she had carelessly tossed into boxes in a fit of anger.

Pushing herself out of bed and heading for the shower, Cristina decided that it was time to retrieve those boxes.

She was ready to embrace what she had left of her old life while moving forward into the new.


	13. Chapter 13

Cristina's eyes moved slowly over the fair skinned baby in her arms- she was supposed to be smaller, swaddled in some stupid pink fuzzy blanket. She was supposed to be crying and sleeping and not trying to babble and reach for her hair.

It was another reminder for how long she'd been there, but not.

Large blue eyes looked up at her shining, a huge grin lighting up the little girl's drool covered face. She didn't have a care in the world, didn't know anything about loss or pain or avoidance. The little girl in her arms didn't even know that she hadn't been there from the beginning.

Her mother did.

Cristina murmured an uncharacteristically soft apology to the baby kicking wildly in her arms, pulled her just a little bit closer- completely disregarding the threat of bodily fluid destroying the deep purple shirt she wore. Somehow it didn't matter to her right now.

All that mattered was setting things right, putting the pieces back together.

Having all the pieces.

Meredith watched from a distance, a mixture of emotions striking her all at the same time- awe, exhaustion, anger, confusion. She thought she'd made herself clear when she walked away that she was done, that she couldn't take it anymore.

She just wasn't sure that she'd made herself clear to this woman. It wasn't _Cristina_ sitting in front of her, holding Emma- but it was Cristina.

Clearing her throat a little, she stepped forward with her arms crossed against her petite frame. "Derek the last time she fought, it bit her in the ass.

Brown eyes met blue and this time they weren't bright and happy- but dull and angry. Cristina tried to express a million apologies without saying a word- but she knew it wouldn't be that easy. She didn't even want it to be easy.

Cristina knew she didn't deserve easy.

"Hi." Cristina mumbled, standing with Emma in her arms. "She's…I…" She wasn't sure how to begin. "Her name is Emma?"

"Her name is Emma." Meredith echoed in a flat voice.

"She's beautiful."

"I know." Another cold answer.

Another thing that Cristina deserved. She carefully let the little girl down onto a blanket to play with her toys and Cristina straightened out, looking at Meredith. "I just came to-"

"Get your things. I know. Derek is getting the boxes into the car for you." Meredith finished for her, "It should only take a couple of minutes and then you can leave."

"Actually," Cristina started, "I..wanted to talk."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

Cristina looked down, let out a soft sigh. For a few moments, she chewed on her bottom lip trying to determine what the best thing to say was- how to make it all better. When she heard footsteps starting away from her, she finally just started. "I checked out."

Meredith's feet stopped.

"I checked out and you needed me. There's something that I should have done differently and I still don't know what it was. But there was something and I didn't do it. I wish that I could take it back, but I can't. I have things- regrets and guilt and whatever else, but I'm here. I'm here now and I want to be here."

Silence lingered between the two women and Meredith shook her head, "I needed you."

"I wish I could have been here." Cristina answered honestly.

"You can't just apologize and decide that everything is going to be fine again. It doesn't work like that."

Hope fluttered through Cristina for a split second, "Nothing is ever that easy."

"It won't be the same." Meredith contended, her voice breaking slightly and tears lining her eyes- already red-rimmed.

"Neither one of us are the same person. We haven't been for a long time." Cristina answered softly, "We couldn't be the same people if we tried. But…we could still be each other's people."

Meredith's eyes remained fixed on the ground, a tear spilling down her cheek and landing on her shirt. She shook her head slightly. "You died with him, do you know that? You _died_ with him. Except we got to bury him. We didn't have to watch him erode and rot away. I didn't have to watch him crumble to something unrecognizable. I watched you, Cristina. Every day, I watched another piece of you fall away until there was nothing left but dust. There was no funeral, there was no burial. I had to watch all of it. And the only thing you could see was how much _you_ hurt. How lost _you_ were. Do you know how much we were hurting? Do you even care?"

"I do," Cristina's voice faded slightly with the answer. "I wish I could make it better. I wish I could take it back. There are so many things that I wish I could have done. I wish that he were still here- but…none of that matters because I can't do it. What I can do is tell you that I'm here. I can tell you that I'm trying and I'm alive and that I'm sorry and hope that maybe one day you'll forgive me."

Derek stepped inside the door just as Cristina finished and looked between the two women. He could feel the tension and took the opportunity to scoop Emma up off the floor. "We'll be upstairs." He mumbled gently before leaving the two women looking at each other.

Cristina shifted uncomfortably under Meredith's gaze and then she cleared her throat a little bit. "I know that…you're angry with me. But, I have his things…and I don't want Burke to go through them with me. I don't want to make him look at all of it. I'd rather you were there. I want you there."

"So I can watch you shut down again?" Meredith asked in a bitter voice.

"So you can keep me from shutting down." It was an honest answer, the best one that Cristina could possibly provide.

Meredith sighed softly, didn't answer, but walked out of the front door without Cristina. She didn't know exactly why she was doing this- why she was agreeing to watch this. She had seen enough of Cristina's breakdowns. She had seen enough of her fade away.

The ride to Cristina's new apartment was stiflingly silent; neither women had words playing on their lips, neither shifted uncomfortably. They only thought- thought about the implications of what would happen if they didn't reconcile, what would happen if they did.

Upon pulling up in front of an unfamiliar building, Meredith glanced upward. "Alex said you moved out of your old place."

Cristina put the car into park slowly, looked over at her. "I couldn't stay there anymore. It was….holding me back, I think."

Meredith didn't show a flicker of reaction to her words, betraying her interior. The past few months had hardened her a great deal- to an extent she wondered if she could rival the old Cristina, the Cristina that had been her person.

Without another word, Cristina opened her car door and stepped out. She pulled one of the large boxes from the backseat. The pressure from her hands on the side of the box caused an old, but familiar scent to rise up from the worn flaps. A sad smile traced her lips and tears threatened already.

Too many times, Cristina had teased him that his cologne was too strong. Now she had proof.

Meredith took the other box in her arms and they walked together into the apartment. Boxes were still in every corner of the apartment and it was clear that it was still very new. Cristina placed her box on the coffee table in front of the couch that was new along with every other piece of furniture in the house.

They really were starting all over again.

More than anything, it was what Meredith had wanted- her friend to come back to her, Cristina to breathe again, to be alive. And now she was here with these boxes full of his things and she was going down that road again.

Cristina was back and she wasn't even going to have a chance to talk to her, to say anything before she disappeared again.

Slender fingers grasped the flaps of the box and Cristina let out a soft sigh to pull it open whenever she felt Meredith's hand on her wrists, halting her actions.

"Wait." Meredith mumbled, her voice weak. "Don't. Don't do this."

Cristina looked up, Meredith's request catching her off guard, "Why?"

"Because…I don't want you to die again." It was the only way that Meredith knew how to explain it to her. It was the only thing that could possibly explain what had happened to Cristina.

"I won't," Cristina promised her softly. "But…I need to do this. I _need_ to do this, Mer." For a moment, her eyes began to glisten with tears again but they faded just as quickly. "I didn't say goodbye to him. I packed him away in boxes and tried to pretend he didn't exist. Then I tried to piss him off. And then I tried to forget him. And then I couldn't stop thinking about him. But I never said goodbye to him. I need these things."

After a moment, Mer gave her a slight nod and then responded as her hand slipped from around Cristina's wrists, "Fine. But if you start to get crazy, I'm taking them back."

Pulling the box open, Cristina peered down into the box. Her eyes watered again and this time tears fell directly onto a picture of the two of them outside, smiling and happy. She pulled it slowly from the box and ran her finger over his smile, wished for a moment that she could kiss him just one more time.

Alex had told her that the feelings would never go away, and she knew now that he was right.

"I hated him for making me take this damn picture," She laughed slightly, but then a soft sob escaped her lips as soon as the words made it out.

"No, No…Cristina, you can't do this. You're already-"

"I'm okay." Cristina promised her, looking up at her. "I am. I'm okay. I miss him. But-" She shook her head. There wasn't really a way to explain it. "I just wanted to see him again. Things fade- after time. I can't hear his voice anymore. For a while it was so _clear_, and then it faded. And then his face started to lose detail, his eyes…his smile. Until I couldn't even be sure that the face I saw was his face anymore. I'm okay." She sniffled a little, her tears already slowing.

"Okay," Meredith answered slowly, watching her closely. She believed her- if only for the fact that she was able to verbalize it to her. She was able to acknowledge the loss and calm herself down and she seemed okay. Meredith allowed herself to glance down at the picture and her eyes started to water as well. "I loved that picture of you guys." She whispered softly. "He was good. Owen. Even if I hated him at first. He was a good guy."

Cristina nodded, pulling some more things from the box. She paused at a green shirt, the one that still smelled only faintly of him. She held it close and sunk onto the couch. A bittersweet smile traced her lips, tears lining her eyes. There wasn't much to say- she just let herself feel. For a split second, she could imagine this shirt on his body, his arms wrapped around her and how good it felt.

She had made so many mistakes in the end and it had taken her such a long time to reconcile with that. It wasn't in her characteristic to be a positive person, but she found that she was constantly trying to remind herself that the night he left was date night- that they were putting things back together.

When he died, Owen was happy- he was on his way to her. To put their lives back together. What he knew when he closed his eyes for the last time was happiness.

Cristina deserved the same.

Carefully, she put the shirt aside and looked back at the picture. "I think this is the one I want to put up somewhere. Maybe in the office."

"Burke won't mind, I'm sure." Meredith mumbled softly, looking through the contents of the box.

"He won't. He's changed a lot." Cristina answered softly, looking down.

"So- are you guys going to live all happily whatever after or something?" She asked, looking up at Cristina, her fingers idly running over the embroidered stars on the flag from Owen's funeral.

With a small shake of her head, Cristina reached out to take the flag from her. "No. I love him, but we're not doing the whole…thing. Marriage and kids and all of that. He knows that I can't do that. That I won't."

"He's okay with it?" Meredith questioned in surprise.

"Burke- I don't really think he's interested in living happily ever after. I think he's just interested in me living." Cristina answered softly. "He just wants me to live."

"Me too."

Cristina leaned her head against Meredith's shoulder and took a deep breath. "I miss Owen." She murmured softly.

Meredith's arms wrapped gently around Cristina and she laid her head atop her friends, fighting back her own tears. "I missed you."

Reaching up, Cristina wiped a tear from her eye and then laid her hand across Meredith's arm. Silently, she swore to herself that she'd make it up to Meredith somehow- for everything that had happened. In the mean time, she said the only thing she could as a beginning to her attempt to make it all better.

"I'm here now."

_fin_


End file.
